#it ain’t an urgent thing or anything like that but boom

[fallingappleshurt]

I’m going to be sooooooo annoying but Life Series merch if y’all are interested

My Redbubble <3

[hanmasushi]

MONTERO (Short Bonten! Scenario)

What happens when you're the new recruit and the only woman in Bonten.

warning ✁ suggestive content, slight cursing, mentions of alcohol and drugs. third person pov. fem!reader. Bonten Men !! Short scenario.

a/n ✁ uhh im just gonna leave it here bye.

wc ✁ 1.6k

ost ✁ Montero by Lil Nas X (pink fonts are lyric references to the song)

For a moment she’d forgotten how she got roped in the situation she was in now. Slightly intoxicated yet she felt more in control than she’d ever been. She smiled as she felt warm hands on her ass, allowing herself to be pulled.

She only briefly remembers receiving a text from Akashi indicating a time and place. It was a famous club in downtown Tokyo and it was set at a later time of the night. She knew she was going to get dressed. She’d only been part of Bonten for a week, as per Akashi’s recommendation, and she could already tell they were an expensive bunch.

She had her long hair tucked in a neat bun, a black coat covering her body while sporting a fresh makeup look. She was decent enough, but she brought extra paraphernalias just in case she’d need them.

Hours passed by and they were now on the upper deck of the club overlooking the crowd, hectic laser lights and constant color shift filling in the venue along with the loud booming of trap music. She still didn’t know what their course of action was but she knew this was an urgent mission. With Akashi, Sanzu, Kokonoi, Ran, and Rindou, basically the majority of the important Bonten figures present, this mission was definitely something that shouldn’t be taken lightly.

This was her first mission, she wasn’t an executive but Akashi made the point to make her tag along. She was being tested, she suspected. She was about to ask when Akashi beat her to it, he was leaning into the railings with a fresh lit cigarette at hand.

“I had an informant of mine saying that crucial information about Bonten was being sold to our biggest rival gangs in Tokyo. And no, there was no mole this time. Information was stolen from us by a notorious hacker. It was said that he was selling it for a considerably expensive price. We couldn’t do anything stupid like attacking him in his own base because a few clicks could mean Bonten’s demise. So I heard that he was going to do the exchange an hour from now. What we’re looking for is a small flash drive, it was said that it’s the only copy to exist that he made. The outcome of this mission could mean the rise or fall of Bonten.” Akashi said in a casual manner, he was now halfway done with his cigarette.

“That’s him.” Sanzu pointed to a guy in the middle of a crowd. It was a lanky guy in a worn out band tee, dark flannel jacket and black skinny jeans.

“Him?” she couldn’t help blurt out but she was positive she could take him out in hand-to-hand combat. The guy looked clearly out of place considering he was like a boy undergoing puberty eyeing every woman he could lay his gaze on, awkwardly nodding as he took a sip of his drink. She was getting secondhand embarrassment just by looking at him.

“Don’t be fooled, he may seem harmless but he’s smart enough to hire guards around him. Getting close to him will not be easy.” Ran pointed around a bunch of beefed up men not too far from the hacker, blending right into the crowd.

“Besides, creating casualties in a crowd like this is not ideal.” Rindou added.

“Best route of action is to wait till he gets out of the club, and beat the other gang to it. Then we’ll have dollface over here, take the drive and make a run for it.” Koko said as he looked at her with his usual smug expression.

“So your plan is to wait for how many ungodly hours and make me an errand girl? Well that’s fucking sexist.” She said trying not to lose her composure, talk about workplace discrimination.

“You got a better plan?” Sanzu loomed over her, his pills having been taking effect considering he was starting to get maniacal and chaotic by the minute.

“Actually, I do.” She said as she started taking her bun and letting her long hair loose. She then took off her coat revealing a black corset mesh mini dress, hugging her figure tightly. “And I'll bet you I can do it in less than three minutes.” She was now applying a crimson shade of lipstick that she pulled out from her purse, she was right about needing her paraphernalia, instantly transforming her fresh glam into a sultry one.

“Yeah right.” Sanzu scoffed. She then shoved her coat and purse into Rindou’s empty arms. Rindou was about to protest because he thought she was going to jeopardize the mission but Ran held him back, he wanted to see how this one plays out.

She was already downstairs blending in the crowd, she was gonna need liquid luck if she wanted to be believable. She downed three shots of vodka before she took one look at her new superiors as if to say “watch me”. That was when Montero by Lil Nas X played and the entire mood of the dancefloor shifted as the smoke machines and lights made the atmosphere more alluring. With smoke filling the air as the lights faded out into purple red blue hues, oh she was in the zone.

I caught it bad yesterday

You hit me with a call to your place

Ain't been out in a while anyway

Was hopin' I could catch you throwin' smiles in my face

It hadn’t been a minute since she downed the vodka but she could feel her body heating up. She was swaying her hips delicately, instantly catching the attention of beautiful strangers around her. She had to gather up momentum if she didn’t want to be suspected.

Romantic talkin'? You don't even have to try

You're cute enough to fuck with me tonight

She let herself be the center of intoxicated strangers, her plan was to make him notice her. It wasn’t long till she caught the hacker’s attention, all she had to do was make him long for her.

Call me when you want, call me when you need

Call me in the morning, I'll be on the way

Call me when you want, call me when you need

Call me out by your name, I'll be on the way like

She never broke eye contact as she continued exchanging body heat with strangers. Swaying off synching into the beat of the song. She had her way of making the man focus on her. Teasing as if she was challenging him to be brave and get closer.

With a different man’s hands around her, she wanted him to feel envious of what was in front of him. That’s when he took the bait, he took one last sip of his drink as if to say fuck it. She knew she was winning the moment he let his guard down. He made his way to her, she was trying to suppress her laughter as she thought of how the alcohol he consumed made him feel that he was desired by a woman like her.

Mmm, mmm, mmm

Mmm, mmm, mmm

For a moment she’d forgotten how she got roped in the situation she was in now. Slightly intoxicated yet she felt more in control than she’d ever been. She smiled as she felt warm hands on her ass, allowing herself to be pulled. She played along, taking his lead, she definitely wasn’t raising any alarms. He was a terrible dancer, she thought. All he had going on was groping her intimate parts of the body. Just a bit more, she continued grinding on the man behind her, feeling him. In the corner of her eyes she could see the executives. Ran, Kokonoi and Sanzu were amused. Akashi still bearing the same neutral look as he smoked another cigarette. Rindou, on the other hand, was shocked at the display. It was near the end of the song when she knew she had to start wrapping things up.

For the finale, she thought she’d surprise them even more by turning around and pulling the guy into a deep kiss.

Oh, call me by your name (mmm, mmm, mmm)

Tell me you love me in private

His hands still on her ass, she decided to take advantage of the situation as she delicately slipped her hands in one of his pockets till she thought BINGO, she’d found the motherload.

Call me by your name (mmm, mmm, mmm)

I do not care if you lyin'

As she broke off the kiss, the man felt like he was still in trance. It took him a moment to realize she was slowly pulling away. He opened his eyes, she gave him one last flirtatious look before she disappeared into the crowd.

Well I'm just feelin', mm-uh

I wanna get, mm-uh

I'm in my, into my, uh

I'm mm, mm

I'm still, mm, mm-mm

The entire time the executives were definitely taken aback from the sudden explicit display.

Seconds later, she was back in the upper decks with the rest of the executives with the guy's scent still lingering. She handed the flash drive to Akashi, who this time had a satisfied look.

“With 30 seconds to spare,” She said to Sanzu. She then took her coat and purse from Rindou, who was just as confused as he was intrigued. She then wrapped her coat back to her body.

"And that is how you handle men, gentlemen" Kokonoi and Ran let out an amused chuckle.

“My my, I don’t know where you found her but I think she’s going to be useful.” Ran said to Akashi.

“As expected.” Akashi simply replied.

The men all made a mental note not to let their guard down around her, despite being an asset, the way she lures men is alarming for them.

[dynyamight]

#116 bkdk please 🥰

send me a writting ask

116. “I’m right here.”

Nightmares. Midoriya feels embarrassed to even admit he still has them.

Ochako had told him that was perfectly normal. “Heroes aren’t high and almighty, Deku. We struggle, cry, and experience loss. Why wouldn’t we have nightmares, either?”

“I have nightmares too, Midoriya-san.” Iida had confessed to him, “But, they don’t make us weak. They fuel us to stay strong and brave.”

Todoroki felt the most convincing to Midoriya. “I have them. Almost every other night.”

“Oh.” Midoriya barely voiced, feeling a little intrusive. He adjusted his phone in his hand, trying to dispel the stiff air he felt in the call.

“Yeah.” On Todoroki’s end, Midoriya heard a bit of shuffling. “If you feel like you’re the only person in the world who deals with the worst of them, you’re not. I’m there with you.”

“Do you know anything to make them disappear?”

“If I did, don’t you think I would have stopped having them?”

“Sorry. You’re completely right.” Midoriya sighed, long and defeated. “I just hate bothering people with these calls.”

“There’s nothing wrong with calling me.” Todoroki offered softly. “I get it. It also helps me to talk it out with someone, too.”

Midoriya hummed, left feeling disappointed in his gut. He knows Todoroki, as well as the rest of his closest friends, are willing to deal with his phone calls. But, he wants them to stop. The nightmares.

They always leave him in a cold sweat, gasping for air. No matter how strong he got, no matter how many villains he took down, or how much the public adornes him with glory and applause, the nightmares break him.

They belittle him. They mock him. They dare him with the deaths of his loved ones. They taunt him with deaths of his own. They curse him with images of not saving enough, or saving no one at all.

All for One. He continues to haunt him, the moment he closes his eyes and falls in a slumber. And, it leaves Midoriya frustratingly holding back tears, wanting him to leave his essence.

And, tonight was another one of those nights. Padding down barefoot, Midoriya walks out of his bedroom and into the living space. There’s a damp towel around his neck, soaking the sweat he built up from his recent nightmare.

In his hands, his cell phone was held tight.

He doesn’t want to call Todoroki, or Ochako, or Iida. He doesn’t want to stress out his mother any more than she needs to. All Might deserves a peaceful night of his own, free from Midoriya’s rambles. And, Midoriya simply didn’t feel comfortable enough to talk with anyone else.

Except, maybe there was one. Midoriya groans, slumping down on his couch.

He looks down at the phone in his hands, its screen glowing. There was a contact name blaring at him back, beckoning him to press the call button.

Midoriya hates the way his exhausted mind easily talks to him into pressing it. He hates the way he puts the phone to his ear, as if he hopes the call is picked up. He hates the way his heart beats frantically in his chest, wanting to hear that familiar voice.

Midoriya hopes his call is ignored.

“Who the fuck is this?”

His voice gets caught in his throat. Midoriya feels the burning of embarrassment suddenly engulf him, like a wildfire.

Bakugou never looks at the contact name, before answering any calls, Midoriya knows. And, he knows that if he were to say anything, Bakugou would know it’s him.

But, he can’t even breathe right now. He immediately regrets everything. Bakugou could be working, patrolling. Bakugou could have been sleeping. Bakugou could have been enjoying time by himself. Or with others.

God, he could be with people right now, and Midoriya’s wanting to talk about his nightmares. How embarrassing. How weak of him.

“Hello?” Bakugou’s voice echoes. “Hello?”

Midoriya chokes, tears falling down his cheeks. “S-Sorry.”

He hangs up.

And, just as fast as he ends the call, his phone is ringing.

It’s almost laughable. If it wasn’t for the brittle heart he had currently, Midoriya would have been smiling at the way Bakugou was urgently calling back. But, instead, he felt terrible, making Bakugou stressed.

Tentatively, Midoriya answers the call, quickly wiping his tears. “K-Kacchan—”

“Where are you? Now.” Bakugou’s concern booms.

Midoriya shakes his head. “I’m home. Safe.”

“You hurt?”

“N-No. I’m okay.”

There’s a moment of silence on Bakugou’s end. “..The fuck you crying about?” He suddenly asks, bluntly.

“It’s—” Midoriya groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s nothing.”

“Hell, it’s nothing.” Bakugou scoffs, “You fucking called me during my shift.”

Of course he did. “You should go back, then.”

“Nah, I got it covered. ‘Sides, it ain’t eventful, tonight.”

“You need to go back to work, Kacchan. It’s important.” Midoriya chastises.

“Yeah, well, so are you.”

That prickles some tears. Sniffing, Midoriya furiously rubs his eyes, frantically trying to keep them dry. The stuffiness in his nose returns, making his voice sound muffled. “I had a nightmare. That’s all.”

“You used to have shitty nightmares, when we were younger.”

“I never outgrew them.” Midoriya admits, quietly.

“Hm.” There’s a bit of wind resounding in Bakugou’s end. “Did they get worse?”

“..They have.”

“Why haven’t you told me.”

Shrugging against the phone, Midoriya curls himself into a ball. “I thought you wouldn’t want to hear about them. They are a bit bothersome, even for me.”

“I wouldn’t—” Bakugou ceases, sighing. “Then, tell me. What was it about? This one.”

Reimagining his nightmares was always hard. Midoriya remembers the faces of the people in his dreams, and the sensations he feels afterwards. But, he cannot seem to recall the story of them, the events in order.

But, for this particular nightmare, there wasn’t any bizarre plotline to understand.

“You.” Midoriya confesses. “You were in it. And, All for One had taken you, in his hands. And, right when I was so close to reaching you, he— you were gone.”

“Lame.”

Sputtering, Midoriya is utterly baffled. “That’s—!”

“What the hell, Deku. You should have known that I ain’t dying anytime soon.” Bakugou huffs irritated, “Especially not from that damn old man. People would call for elder abuse, from how I could beat his ass.”

He shouldn’t laugh, but Midoriya can’t help it. He smiles, staring up at his ceiling. “I knew you would say something like that.”

“Is that why you called?” Bakugou inqueries, “So, you could hear me say that.”

“..Yeah.” Midoriya nods. He brings a hand to his curls, running them through. “I needed to hear you say that.”

“You planning to go back to sleep?”

“You’ve never asked these many questions before, Kacchan.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Midoriya exhales a defeated breath, laying his head back on the couch. “No. I wasn’t.”

“You fucking should.” Bakugou tsk’s. Midoriya can imagine him shaking his head in disapproval.

“If I do, the nightmares will come back.” He states weakly, and his shoulders tighten. “I-I can’t. I don’t want to see you fall again.”

“..Stay on the line.”

Midoriya doesn’t know what to expect, as he stayed waiting. A couple seconds became a few minutes, and then those minutes became at least fifteen minutes of no response.

He’s about to hang up, thinking Bakugou had to go back to combat, until he hears loud rummaging.

“You there?” Bakugou voices.

He nods. But then, Midoriya remembers that Bakugou can’t see him. “Y-Yeah. I am.” He hurriedly states.

“Good.”

There’s a lot more movement and noise sounding off on Bakugou’s end; clinking of metal, heavy footsteps, car horns, beeping of sorts.

“I put you on my bluetooth.” Bakugou mentions it easily.

“N-No! Don’t do that, Kacchan!” Midoriya frantically insists, sitting up fully in his seat.

“I need to do my fucking job, idiot.”

“Then, hang up!”

“Yeah, but you need me.”

Midoriya stills. Despite his pleas to leave, his heart soars achingly, appreciating Bakugou’s efforts towards him. It causes a surge of tears, threatening to fall. “I-I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re exhausting, Deku.” Bakugou groans, “If you were, I would have hung up by now.”

“What are you even planning for us to do, then?”

“Fucking easy.” Bakugou huffs confidently, “Keep your phone to your ears.”

“Keep my phone?”

“So, when you fall asleep, you can still continue hearing me alive.” Bakugou states, “Hear me talk, walk, breathe. Maybe, in your shit dreams, I’ll be alive there, too.”

Midoriya smiles, his vision blurring. “I wish you were here.” He confesses.

“I’m right here.” Bakugou firmly states, his voice resounding deep in Midoriya’s fragile, weakened core. “Just don’t fucking hang up, and I’ll be here.”

And, Midoriya doesn’t. He listens quietly to Bakugou flying around his city, the booming of his explosives reaching his call. And, he hears all the conversations Bakugou has with people; his sidekicks, the bypassing citizens, his fellow fans.

Midoriya overhears Bakugou mentioning to someone that yes, he was on a call, and no, it wasn’t their business who. “It’s someone I would fucking fight for. There. Happy now?” Bakugou relents, finally.

Midoriya wants to laugh, but instead, he feels his body light and sleepy. Resting flat on the couch, he brings a pillow to his chest, and allows himself to close his eyes.

The last thing he hears from Bakugou is a small, short whisper. “Let me fight those nightmares, Deku.”

His dreams consist of Bakugou beating up All for One with ease.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine: Erik teaching his daughter to love her dark skin.

Imagine:

[ Short, fluffy. ]

“Daddy,”

Erik was in the middle of talking with a group of his guy friends from his youth before they stepped out for more protesting and solidarity. All of the men are wearing black from head to toe, poster boards with various quotes such as:

Unapologetically BLACK

The new racism is to deny that racism EXISTS

Skin color is not reasonable suspicion

I CAN’T BREATHE

Justice for Breonna Taylor

Erik was in the middle of writing on another poster board when he heard his ten year old daughter, True, call for him. Her voice was shaky and small, the sound of it causing his chest to tighten. Erik recapped the permanent marker before turning to his beautiful daughter with sepia skin, her cheeks wet from her fresh hot tears.

“What’s going on, True? why are you crying?” Erik pulled out one of his dining room chairs, grasping True’s tiny hands in his, bringing her closer to him with urgent eyes.

“I was gonna tell mama but she’s sleeping and she might go over there,” True looked down at her pink converse.

“Listen, whatever you were gonna tell your mama you can tell me,” Erik squeezes both of his daughters shoulders, “Talk to me, baby, what happened?”

“Kimberly, across the street,” True timidly pointed towards the open window that was sending a warm draft throughout the dining room, “She said I was ugly.”

Erik could feel his friends movements behind him still. True averted her eyes to look at the wall, trying her hardest not to break down and cry.

“Okay...why did Kimberly call you ugly?” Erik spoke calmly.

“She said my skin looks like tar...it reminds her of an apes skin.”

Erik’s eyes flickered with rage as he watched his daughter cry before him. How dare this little white girl say that about his beautiful black daughter? How dare she make a joke that her ancestors before her would have made about his daughter? He wanted to charge over there and bang down Kimberly’s door. That all sounded perfect but all it will lead to is the police being called; the pigs.

“True...I want to tell you something,” Erik cleared his throat; raspy voice strong and abrasive because of his anger towards what Kimberly said, “there is this quote from Marcus Garvey...it says the black skin is not a badge of shame but rather a glorious symbol of natural greatness,” Erik gently takes True’s face into his hands, his thumbs wiping away her overflowing tears.

“Your skin is a glorious masterpiece, the sun kisses your skin like no other, hey,” Erik soothes True, “black women, black girls; there are different shades of beauty. Beauty is about being comfortable in your own skin. Kimberly’s words shouldn’t matter, you know why? Because Kimberly isn’t my baby girl. Kimberly could never be you because no matter what shade of melanin you are, know that your skin tone is brilliant. You, my princess are phenomenally made!”

“You’re a gift, baby girl!” One of Erik’s friends says, the others following suit with more compliments and encouraging words.

“That melanin tho!” Another one shouted, causing everyone to chuckle and True to blush.

“Black girl magic PERIOD,” Erik says pulling his daughter in for a hug, “I want you to repeat after me, True...I love my dark skin.”

“...I love my dark skin,” She says while keeping eye contact with her father.

“I am a strong melanin princess,” Erik playfully squeezes True’s Afro puffs.

True giggles, “I am a strong melanin princess.”

“I am impressively dripping in black beauty, and can’t NOBODY tell me otherwise, say it.”

“I am impressively drippin’ in black beauty and can’t NOBODY tell me otherwise!!!” True shouts, Erik’s friends wolf whistling and clapping in the background.

“SEE, that’s what I’m taking about. You are my beautiful, chocolate, princess. Kimberly ain’t got nothing on you, she envies you.”

“Thanks daddy,” True gave him a wide braces filled smile before wrapping her arms around Erik’s broad shoulders, “I love you daddy.”

“I love you too, True,” Erik kisses her kinky hairline, “Now, remember what I say. You gotta love yourself, baby girl.”

Erik stood up from his seat, grabbing his permanent marker and handing it over to True, “Before I go, I want you to write something powerful on this poster board that represents all the black girls in the world, okay?”

True uncaps the marker, walking up to the poster board. She stood there, staring at the black canvas, unsure of exactly what to say. She gasps, leaning over to write something out. Erik watches his daughter write big letters across the white poster board with a wide dimpled smile.

“Black girl MAGIC!!!” She shouted before holding up the poster board for the others to see, “Daddy! I wanna go protest with you!”

“Okay,” Erik simply says, “We’re meeting for a rally, call on the spirts of the fallen and our ancestors to be with us. Remember, Asé?”

“That means amen, right?” True says.

“Yes. It is an African philosophical concept through which the Yoruba of Nigeria conceive the power to make things happen and produce change. It is given by Olodumare to everything - gods, ancestors, spirits,” Erik stands fully, “I am root of your root, soil of your soil, bone of your bone, and blood of your blood. Love, love, love, asé.”

“Will we say asé for Breonna Taylor?” True says with wide hopeful eyes, “She still didn’t get justice.”

Erik smiles proudly at his daughter for knowing her name, “Of course. For all those who deserve justice and who didn’t deserve to be taken away from us. All of our people.”

A knock came to the door, a hard knock like the police. Erik shared a look with his friends before walking to the door. Before he opened it Erik peeked out of the living room curtains, holding a hand up to his friends to let them know that everything was okay. Erik had to watch his back, he was a strong voice for the Oakland community. Opening the door, Kimberly and her mother, Suzanne are standing there. Suzanne looked startled for a second but she gathered herself, turning a blazing eye on Kimberly.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Erik, but I overheard my daughter say something very, very cruel to True while they were writing with chalk on the pavement,” Suzanne looked embarrassed, her eyes avoiding Erik’s, “Is there something you have to say to True!”

Kimberly twisted her foot on the steps, her face solem and her long, black hair shieldjng her eyes, “I’m sorry True for calling you a monkey.”

“And I am terribly sorry for this,” Suzanne has a hand clutched to her chest, “I don’t know where Kimberly heard this from but we did not teach her to talk like that. You should be ashamed of yourself-

“Kimberly is a child, children absorb everything around them. Not to cause problems but...maybe Kimberly heard it from her other white friends? Maybe they don’t like True so they told her to call my daughter a monkey.” Erik gave Suzanne a stern look as if he were watching her suspiciously.

Suzanne blinked at Erik with confusion, “I think I would know if my daughters friends said anything like that, Kimberly, did Rebecca and Sabrina say anything to you today about True?”

Kimberly looked like she wanted to hide. True didn’t take her eyes off of her so-called-friend. She knew the truth but she wanted to hear Kimberly say it. True grasps Erik’s hand tighter. Erik looked down at her, her silence enough to let him know that there was more to the story.

“Kimberly!” Suzanne shouts.

“Rebecca doesn’t like that I play with True. She says that her father thinks all black people are infectious and corrupt.”

“WHAT!!!” Suzanne’s voice boomed like she was holding a megaphone to her mouth, “Kimberly, why would you allow your friend to say those things about True? Why would you say things like that? I am so embarrassed right now,” Suzanne points a stern finger at Kimberly, “apologize again!”

Kimberly angrily wipes away her tears with the back of her hand, “I’m sorry True! I’m sorry I said that!”

“I accept your apology,” True leaned into Erik’s solid body, “But I can’t be friends with you anymore.”

Suzanne felt True’s words as if she were the girls friend. Kimberly angrily storms off across the street, running up her porch and into the house.

“True, I know what Kimberly said was very mean but...you don’t want to be friends with her?” Suzanne looked offended.

“No, she doesn’t. I’m sure those girls have picked on my daughter and the fact that Kimberly knows that shows that she will do it again. My daughter doesn’t feel comfortable with your child,” Erik wrapped a comforting hand around True’s shoulder, protecting her guarding her.

“Well,” Suzanne turns to leave, “I’m sorry again, True.” She looked like she wanted to say more on her daughters behalf but instead she walked back to her home.

“Did I do the right thing, daddy?” True asks, looking up at her fathers with sad eyes.

“You did what was best for you, that’s the right thing, baby girl,” Erik kisses True on top of her head, “Let’s not tell your mom about this just yet, you know she will raise hell about it.”

“Yeah, let’s just go protest,” True pulls her fathers hand back inside, “Let’s go, daddy, we have to get out there!”

“Haha, okay, Princess.”

[babylooneytoonz]

Trip Mines & Broken Hearts [Tommy Shelby x Reader]

You can read all the other parts here.

Part-6

Thomas Shelby was a man true to his words and his warnings.

You found him lurking at your doorsteps countless number of times after that—

At first, you protested; you screamed at him, lashed out and asked him to leave. And every time you did, he came back the next day like a snarky little pest.

Although he didn't for once made you feel like he would hurt you, or your daughter, but a small part of you felt afraid, afraid he will do something dreadful if you kept on shunning him away. You feared for your daughter, although you knew he wouldn't touch a hair on your head, you were afraid if anything was to happen to you, what would become of her. Also, you couldn't fail to notice the sparkle in her eyes when she asked you if her new daddy had come to visit her, almost everyday. There were days she asked you about Theodore, but you told him he was in heaven now. The topic always ended with her asking you if Thomas was going to visit and you had to lie each day that he hadn't come yet.

So finally, one day, you had melted in your resolve and finally let him in, into your house but not into your heart.

No, you weren't going to do that—

Thomas often visited your home on Sundays, and stayed to have dinner with you and his daughter. You were quiet, but deep inside, you felt a warmth when you saw the father daughter duo talk on about all the topics in the world; ranging from ice creams to the deadliest animals alive. Tommy was a good father, atleast he was good with your girl.

Things between you and Thomas were the same. There was a cold layer of ice; blocking the both of you from stepping close to each other's proximity but you wanted it to be that way. Neither of you spoke unless it was absolutely required and there was no other option.

Wintry trees stood along the side of the road and the cold winter wind was blowing through, making you desperately struggle to keep your hair in place. You held your daughter's hand, her fingers locked with yours as you walked towards the clinic. Now, with Theodore dead, there was no one to watch over her. Although Thomas had wanted you to keep a nanny, you didn't want it. You couldn't trust the people he trusted; and you couldn't trust him, so he hadn't pushed you. He knew that you would break eventually, just like you had, to letting him meet his daughter and be in her life. But little did he know that your walls will finally break when something as drastic as this happened—

"Is daddy coming over for dinner tomorrow?" Your daughter had the usual question up her lips; you smiled and looked down at her through your round frames. You realized you had grown older, atleast physically although you were only in your mid twenties; rendering your eyesight weak.

"It's Sunday, ain't it love? Unless he's busy, he's going to be there." You informed, tugging at her hand slightly so she could walk a little faster as your mind was half at the clinic, wondering if the patients were coming in already; and whether the doctor was waiting for you.

The road was almost empty, with just a few passersby on the road, young mothers mostly, scurrying away as fast as they could because the winter chill was dense and they were worried their children would catch a cold. A man stood in a corner, by a tree, resting his back against its silvery bark. His car was parked not much distance away. And he looked harmful enough. A woman, her swollen belly evident underneath the layery white dress that she wore, she stood leaning against the car. The couple seemed to have had an argument.

As you passed them by, the woman lifted her eyes up and her eyes fixed on your daughter first and then on you. You gave her a warm smile, as much as your frozen cheeks were able to.

"You've got a lovely lass," she said to you before removing her gaze from you and fixing it on the child, "Oh my, that is lovely hat."

"Thank you," Sophie chirped; excited that someone had complimented her hat, that she had taken from your wardrobe, a hat you never really wore.

You ran your hand carelessly through your tresses, tucking in the loose strands that had slid out from behind your ears as you gave them one last look and continued walking your way.

You hadn't gone far, but your steps were fast; yet somehow, your ears caught the sound of someone's footsteps behind you. You paused abruptly, your fingers tightening around your daughter's hand as you turned to look back. The woman and the man had followed you, but what worried you was the silver, glistening metal in the man's hand, aimed right towards Sophie. Instinctively, you stepped in front of her, sheilding her from the direct aim of the gun.

"Jesus, do you want money?" You pulled out your purse, jingling it so they could hear the coins and maybe, would lower that weapon down. When they didn't, you pleaded again, "Please, can you put the fucking gun down? My daughter's scared." You tried to reason with the woman, hoping she would understand.

She only shook her head, her plump lips curving into a sly smile.

"Now that's in your hand, he won't pull the fucking trigger if you hand her to me."

"Now why the fuck would I do that?" You were in full combat mode now; your nostrils flared and your fists clenched against your sides.

"Hand me the fucking gun you dim wit and go get that darn lass," the woman hissed under her breath towards the man, who hurriedly nodded and handed her the gun, giving her a minute to aim the gun towards you as he started jogging in the direction you two were standing.

"Give her to me." He snarled, reaching out with his beefy palm to grab the girl by her dress but you were fast, you grabbed Sophie and pushed her behind you immediately, pushing the man with all your might.

"You fucking whore," he cursed, stumbling slightly backwards and he was about to lunge at you when a shot richocheted off the woman's gun in the air and everything went still; only the wailing of your daughter could be heard.

"You'll be alright, baby. Nothing's going to happen, okay? Do you trust mummy?" You whispered softly, letting your hand trail back so you could hold her hand but suddenly, a sudden pain ripped through your body, a bullet tearing through the flesh on your arm as it pierced into you. You tumbled almost backwards with the momentum of the bullet, leaving your guard down and in that minute, the man lunged at Sophie, slamming a sack on her face.

"NO! Let go off her!" You screamed as loud as you could, as you steadied yourself only to realise it was too late as the metal of the gun struck you in the back of your head and your eyes widened; the sound of your daughter's screaming slowly shrinking away. You struggled to stay awake but your eyes were getting blurry and your vision suddenly blackening as you fell to the floor with a sickening crack.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SOMEONE TOOK HIM? HOW CAN SOMEONE FUCKING GET IN AND TAKE HIM? Where the fuck was Mary? And the other fucking servants?" Thomas Shelby's voice boomed through his office as he paced up and down in front of his sister. He felt like wind had been knocked out from his chest and someone was pressing down on his throat with their foot. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't understand how someone had managed to get into his house, right under Ada's nose.

"I swear to fucking God Tommy, I went to the fucking bathroom, for a minute. When I got out, the house was quiet. I went to Charlie's nursery to check on the children, Karl was playing with his toys, on the carpet, but the window was wide open and Charlie wasn't there."

He was pacing up and down the room, his hand occasionally flying up to his face to rub it anxiously. He was trying to think of who could have done this. He had a handful of enemies who could have done it, but he needed to know just who it was exactly who had dared to take his son. Thomas was mentally preparing to slit the man's throat, just enough to give him a slow, torturous death, once he got Charlie back—

"Did Karl say anything? Did he bloody say anything? Ada?"

The brown haired girl just shook her head, her face constricted with worry.

"If something happens to my boy, I'm going to bloody make sure I —" Tommy's words were interrupted by a knock on his office door. "What is it?" He almost snapped when the door was pushed open and his secretary poked her head in.

"Lizzie, what—"

"Before you scream at me, I wanted to inform you that there's a woman waiting outside, a fucking stubborn one. Says she knows you and what she needs to tell you cannot bloody wait."

"Ask her to fuck off, Lizzie. My son's fucking kidnapped."

"She told me to tell you her name, it's some (Y/N)?" She whispered, before curling her lips slightly, ready to step out and shut the door.

"Lizzie wait. Let her come in. Ada—" He turned towards his sister, "Just bloody leave. Go home, be with Karl, I'm going to bloody figure something out. I'm going to get my boy back." He snapped at her and she just slowly left, the fear in her eyes and the strain evident on her face. On her way out, she walked past you, eyeing you as you weakly walked up to his office.

You had somehow managed to reach the clinic and the doctor had hurriedly dressed up your bullet wound; lucky for you, it had just grazed your skin a little and no damage was done. You had then rushed out, as fast as you could, running all the way until you were finally here.

"If it's not anything important, I don't have time." He looked at you through his glasses, motioning for you to come in.

Your face was coated with dust, and he could see a look of horror in your eyes. He knew whatever the matter was, was urgent, but he wondered if it was more urgent than going to look for Charlie.

"Tommy—" Your lips started quivering and your eyes started watering, "they took her Tommy. They took our baby."

Tommy had never been a religious man but he had always believed in hell, and he felt like he was finally seeing a reflection of it. Weeks of hopeless searching for two, not one of his children, was proving to be futile for he was returning back home again, empty handed, without any clue.

He dreaded going back, for he knew he will have to face you—

And the look you would give him, the pain in your eyes—

Ever since your daughter was taken, you had started living at the Arrowe House, only to be there when Tommy received a news; a positive one. Another reason was that your home was nothing but a purgatory now, without your daughter. It haunted you, the emptiness. You couldn't deal with it.

Tommy took off his coat, letting it hang on the coat hanger. The house was quiet, which was a surprise to him for he knew that you sat by the door everyday, waiting for him to come back home with a hopefulness that they had been found. But today, you weren't there.

Confused, Tommy walked from room to room, searching for you until he spotted you from one of the windows, in the backyard, speaking to Michael. Cursing under his breath, he turned around, winding his way down the flight of stairs until he was out where the two of you were, in the backyard.

You were the first one to see him, but this time, he saw a hope in your eyes.

"Tommy, Michael found something."

Tommy turned to Michael immediately, his eyes narrowed as he waited for the younger boy to reply, "we found the woman and the man that took Sophie, Tommy. And they confessed, they did it for the pounds."

"Fucking cunts." Tommy cursed, his anger evident on his face, "Who paid them? Who has them Michael?"

"Riley Shaw."

"That fucking bastard—"

Tommy's eyes flew towards you and they softened for a bit.

"Who is he, Tommy?" You whispered, your voice weak and barely audible.

"A fucking businessman in London."

You were not daft, you knew what the business world Tommy was talking about— the illegal one, but now was not the time to fight. You needed your child back.

"The first train to London leaves at four, Tommy. We need to hurry if we have to catch it—"

"We? You're not fucking going anywhere." He cut you off, mid sentence.

"You think you can stop me Thomas? That's my fucking child out there." You hit him hard on his chest.

"That's my fucking daughter too. And I will get her back." He spat, grabbing your fist mid air, before you could hit him one more time.

"Listen, Thomas," you said, much calmer, but your voice strong, and your mind already made up, "If not with you, I will catch that fucking train on my own. Even if I have to look for her all over London, I bloody would."

Thomas Shelby closed his eyes, knowing very well that you had made up your mind and that he could do nothing to change your mind. By that time, you had already turned on your tail, marching your way out of his house, when he called out, "I'm not letting you go, alone."

[bonniearden]

hello! ❤️ stumbled across your blog and saw your hcs were open! hc for arthur and john x f!reader who gets really bad anxiety attacks during storms/any type of bad weather? was hit with some tornadoes and power outages and winds and i can’t stop panicking :( need the boahs to cheer me up haha

Arthur Morgan and John Marston HC’s: “Comforting Female! Reader During Bad Weather “

Saw this and got to work! I live in the Philippines so we tend to also get a lot of typhoons/storm surges. Tried making it longer to compensate for such a late reply. Hope you’re doing okay, anon. You can do this! Best wishes : ) 

(tw: Anxiety Attacks)

Arthur Morgan 

Arthur noticed.

Noticed how you were no longer breathing right, how you bit at your nails and glanced wearily at the rattling window panes, how your palms wanted to shoot up to your ears and block out the noises that made you shiver with harrowing distress.

Noticed how you tried to shut off your thoughts–tried to keep quiet, but only grew more disconcerted as the quiet soon became louder and louder.

Enveloping you, suffocating you.

He’s about to call your name, yet amidst the shrieking lightning and the thunder’s booming response, all he hears is the sudden choke of your voice–the heavy rising and collapsing of your chest.

A tiny cry.

And he doesn’t even bother to ask.

Arthur crosses the room in strides, arms urgently stretching out as he reached to hold you. Assess you.

His bare palms folded around the apples of your cheeks, warming them up from the wind’s harsh whispers.

“Shh, shh.” He coos. “Just breathe, darlin’”

The man’s rough voice is delicate and quick, easing through his lips in that familiar drawl, “What happened?”  

You swiftly grab a hold onto his steady digits, looking down at his feet as you tried to regain some semblance of composure–albeit frustratingly so.

“I-I’m, I don’t know, I feel anxious–”

Outside, the abrupt shrill of the night sky explodes into a cacophony of pouring rain, a bright burst of light painting your silhouettes onto Shady Belle’s creaking walls. You whimper, startling in your spot as you all but jumped at the sound.

Things seemed to click then.

Arthur curses softly, hands immediately guiding you into his giving embrace. “Alright, angel,” He mumbles, firmly speaking over the volume of the storm, “It’s okay, c’mere.”

You seemed to let out a sob at that, “God, I’m sorry–”

The cowboy’s hand goes up to the crown of your head, keeping you tenderly in place.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about. Happens even to the best of us.”

Arthur holds you comfortably, rubbing circles over the withering shape of your form, barely even minding your frightened hands that would grip his coat like an anchor to shore.

“Want me to stay?” He whispers after a while.

You might as well have said please by the way you clung tighter to him.

Though the cowboy knew at that point what had been the cause of your worries, he finds that had it been anything different, nothing would have changed.

Nothing would have changed how he sat you down on your cot, folding up pillows that suddenly felt softer than they did before. 

Nothing would have changed how he unlaced your boots and his, palms moving almost reverently.

Ministrations that glided not without rhythm, not without prose.

Muttering sweet nothings whilst he tucked you between his folded legs, chest expanding and constricting as you leaned softly against his broad torso. 

Bodies curling into a fetal position.

Nothing would have changed how Arthur’s shoulders instinctively squared around your own–consoling you, securing you: the wordless affirmations of your safety, of his presence.

How he coaxes you to breathe in tandem with his own sweet exhalations. Counting one, exhale, two, exhale…

Stilling your heart, stilling your mind.

Once in a period of general rest, he picks up his sketchbook.

And from his charcoaled grip sprung the images of trees and flowers. 

Things that reminded you undoubtedly of spring.

Your busy eyes were swayed by the steady looping and gliding of graphite on paper–

–whilst your ears drew comfort from the clemency of his words–that of which fanned over your cheek and above your shoulder, and sometimes hummed in broken, rough stories.

“Breathe, sweetheart, it’ll be okay,”

Arthur’s thumb drifts over your own, moving back and forth in consistent, subconscious efforts.

Little by little, the storm would dwindle away, its roar growing gentler and gentler as it slowed down to an ambient drizzle.

Your eyes, however, would flutter shut long before it stopped.

Arthur’s palm still yet to be unentangled from yours.

Their combined weight, almost feather like, resting peacefully atop the rise and fall of your chest, as you drifted easily into slumber.

John Marston

It didn’t help that you weren’t in camp.

Camp, where Uncle’s fussing and Arthur Morgan’s reproaching stretched to no end. Camp, where ambient voices shut out your worries and drunken songs reminded you that you weren’t confined in some beaten cabin strewn about the woods.

The night was looming–that much one could tell–but heaven’s downpour of rain stole whatever benefits rest could afford you. 

The weather was unsettling, ominous. Dreary–like a steady sea that began to sway just ever so slightly against the sweeping winds. 

The hammock you laid in creaked and thrashed in a way that made your stomach churn with bile. 

You would throttle in your sleep, helplessly counting your breaths as vertigo wormed its way through your head. 

With John already settled in, and the storm outside pouring like hail over the cabin’s rotting rooftops, you chose to silence yourself, holding each and every string of hot air that begged for escape out your trembling lips. 

You masked desperately at your panic, actively keeping out any incessant thought about the thundering skies or the pitter pattering that didn’t yield at your pleas.

It hits then. The painfully familiar gasps, the harsh breathing.

Just about enough to startle John awake.

He finds you thrashing upright from your hammock, legs flailing as you struggled to get a firm grip on your fickle sheets. 

The force pushes his own bed, effectively chiding a surprised croak of your name from out the depth of his chest. Yanked freshly from slumber, John grows defensive, hands bolting for a gun. 

“The hell is it–” He begins protectively, staring at the shadow of your back, expecting some form of response– a shout.

Till he realizes that you weren’t speaking–body too frozen into spot. There are no thieves around (as ironic as that’d be), no angry Pinkertons, nor stray, ferocious animal. 

Just you.

John stares for a moment, coming down from his adrenaline high as the echo of the storm clung to the walls. 

He’d be uncertain, unsure, yet already rounding your position–immediately coming face to face with the unravelling of a once delicate composure. 

The thunder claps, striking the turbulent air, and it sends enough of a jolt through you to have your gaze align frantically with his. 

Your fear is something he recognizes almost immediately. 

The panic in your eyes an emotion he can so painfully recognize.

“Are you–”

“…you scared of the rain?” He asks unsurely–quietly, but concerned nonetheless. Your only reply is a mix between a gasp and a shaky breath; such an awfully distinct sound that titillated on a sob.

John Marston fumbles for a moment–but he knows that heart-racing weariness. He’s felt it on the days when he was a child on the run, fearing death–feeling anger. He seems to understand.

John kneels to your level, eyes meeting yours whilst he gently places his palm atop the one that was clutching tightly at your undershirt. 

“Alright, just–”

He inhales, gathering his composure–guiding you. Desperately trying to mirror what Hosea and Dutch (even Arthur) once did for him.

“Just breathe with me now.” 

Nodding with bleary eyes, you curl your hold round his wrist, focusing your attention into following his movements. 

“That’s it,” He’d encourage you, his voice scratchy with a foreign tenderness, “You’re doin’ okay.”

“Stay, please.” You choke out after a while. He looks at you, brown eyes the deepest they’ve ever been.

He doesn’t know where it comes from, but it’s a natural reaction, a natural urge. John stutters for a moment, though eventually succumbs to the flow of his movements.

He goes with his gut.

When the storm roars just outside the cabin, and twigs smack dead center in the folds of the windows, the man wraps his arms around your waist, and hugs timidly at your form–the feel of his lean frame, a great consolation. 

You expect yourself to go stiff with discomfort, instead you find yourself leaning into his embrace, eyelids falling shut as though to suppress the sudden burn that surged from behind your trodden stare.

He squeezes your shoulder, “Ain’t goin’ anywhere. Don’t you worry.”

So John Marston stays, he makes himself spare and stays, that initial uncertainty gradually fading once he grasps the levity of your state.

He does all he knows he can. 

He guides you back to lay on the hammock, sitting around edge of its sturdy canvas, back turning to look at you whilst his feet subconsciously rocked the bed to and fro.

John tells you he’ll just be right here, that there was nothing to worry about.

Occasionally, in the moments he thinks he sees your eyelids sinking, he’d bring his palm up to your forehead and tentatively brush away the tiny tresses that clung to its sweat. His voice quietly imitating a few songs he’s think he heard Javier sing around the camp.

They’re dry and awkward attempts, but they fill out the white noise you so earnestly wanted gone.

The ambience of the camp. The feel of home.

When you feel sleep claim you, John lights a lamp and sits it visibly at the front of your makeshift bedding, allowing its warm, orange glow to eat away at the darkness that consumed your room.

He lingers there, swaying you gently to sleep.

You keep your pupils trained to its light, attempting to steady your breaths, as you felt its comfort gradually grow from within you.

–feeling it even more when his weight dips behind the hammock and folds around you just slightly. 

“It’ll turn out okay,” He tells you, no longer thinking twice as his arm rests lightly over your waist. Holding you close.

The empty wind drifts by the gap left by two unmet bodies, carrying no sound, but only the chill of the weather. 

You don’t shiver, you don’t tremble. You only close your eyes, and think about the comforting weight on your hip, breath calming when your hand perches upon it.

As it is a cold that simply won’t withstand the warmth emulating within you. 

A warmth that carried to the break of next day’s mildewed morning, where you find John still asleep next to you, and the light of last night’s lamp still flickering brightly. 

[goodproofingwater]

Chapter 16 | Tinder Tommy

Words: 1953 Notes: hello my lovelies, i am so sorry that this has taken so long - i feel like this has literally been months and you deserve better! lots of shit has been happening in my life which has meant that i haven’t really had the focus to do anything but watch brooklyn 99 or peaky blinders for the 500th time, but ya girl is back for now! I hope that you are all still with me and are looking forward to seeing how Tommy works with his new found affection! This chapter pairs directly with @idesiretomhardy​‘s Mr Solomons story (in that the dialogue is the same in parts, and the timelines are the same. These stories exist in the same universe. Enjoy!

Taglist (just send me a message if you would like to be added):

@a-dorky-book-keeper @ishoutmarcoandyoushout @idesiretomhardy @theamuz @blinderscaps @peakywriting @justanothershelby @contemporary-mary @auroravipers @moonyscardigans @peakysxshelby @miss-shelby-barnes @vintage-fantasyyy @ly—canthrope @morgan-1830 @i-love-you-green @l0tsofpennies @exploringmycosmicsoul @maah-chan @peakyblindersengland

The journey to Birmingham was almost pleasant. The first class ticket his assistant had scored him came with whiskey and although he couldn’t smoke, the journey was so seamless that he was only craving a cigarette when he stepped into the fresh air of Birmingham new street.

It had always amazed him in the way it only could a local to Birmingham that he could get to between the London office and the place it had all began in a matter of hours. He remembered when he had to call a car to get to the London office when it just started up, when the trains were so shit that he had to rely on his own mileage to get there. But so much had changed since then. He had changed since then.

Tommy Shelby crawled into Small Heath four hours after he had reluctantly left his home in Mayfair, the staff he had in the midlands office a far cry from the suit wearing, polished people in Canary Wharf.

“Good afternoon Mr Shelby,” the receptionist spoke, smiling at him and looking toward the old knocked down wall which led to the rest of what they loosely called the Birmingham office.

The large room had once been three or four terrace houses but had long since been knocked through, a small platform allowed for John to stand by a massive touch screen where he was checking stock prices and the market which was much further from their legitimate business.

The business in the north was far different from the import and export business in the south, and far from legal.

Shelby Company Limited were the first company in history to produce software which allowed the significant players in import and export of illegal goods to check market price, and buy and sell illegal goods on a secure server which was entirely untraceable.

The software was a massive success, and had gained the Shelby name infamy with even the most brutal and violent drug cartels still operating in the 21st century.

“So what was so urgent that I had to get a train up here immediately?”

John stepped aside and showed him the spreadsheet he was working on, and pulled up the share prices for drugs so it sat next to it.

“By all accounts, the cocaine market is following the same pattern as it did 5 years ago”

John didn’t have to go into detail for Tommy to remember the influx of cocaine into the country via a rival London based company, and the price drop which followed due to supply heavily outweighing demand. It had been the main reason Tommy had set up the office in the south.

“Is it Kimber again? Because I swear to god—“

“Not Kimber. His company uses our software now and he called the support team thinking it was a fucking glitch in the system”

Tommy’s brow furrowed as he eyed the prices and the spreadsheet which showed the fluctuations John had been keeping track of since the incident so long ago.  

“And uh.. that’s not all” John spoke, gesturing for Tommy to follow him into his office and he did, taking a seat in one of the plush leather chairs which sat on the other side of Johns desk while his younger brother poured them whiskey and placed the glasses in front of them. “As well as the share prices I’ve been keeping track of the weight of the product coming in and going out. It’s been declining steadily for the last week. Not by much, not even enough to alert me at the start but it’s going down an ounce each time.”

“So you’re telling me someone is skimming off the top?” And John nodded, sipping his whiskey as he unintentionally mirrored Tommy’s posture, leaning back in his chair with one ankle resting on the other knee.

Tommy let out a sigh, hating that there was yet another issue that he had to deal with. External problems like share prices and supply and demand came with the territory. Internal problems were not something he had patience for.

“Any theories who it is?”

“You mean except Michael?” The malice in Johns voice was matched only by his expression, his hate and disdain for his cousin clear in everything from his brow to his clenched fingers around his glass.

Tommy responded only by rolling his eyes, Michael’s drug problem being something he was fully aware of.

“Michael pays for what he takes. And he pays double. Any real theories?”

John remained quiet, sipping his whiskey and allowing his silence to speak for itself.

“Fantastic.” Tommy sighed, downing his whiskey in one gulp and plucking a cigarette from the case he had pulled from his inside pocket. “Do we at least know which office?”

“Oh it’s definitely up here. The coke is lighter way before it even touches county lines”

Tommy lets out a sigh with the exhale of his cigarette, smoke billowing from his nose as the prospect of someone stealing and the punishment they deserve runs through his mind.

“Alright. I’ll speak to the managers up here separately and let them know what’s going on, ask them to keep an eye. I don’t want either of us up here if there’s a supply/demand problem in case we get raided. These people will get away with saying they were following orders, but we’re the fucking captains.”

John nods, sipping his whiskey and glancing out of the window, his mind clearly trying to puzzle out who it could be as Tommy did the same.

--

Later that evening, Tommy slipped into a bar in new street to wait for an old friend. One that he couldn’t quite believe was even stepping foot in the city.

The room seemed to part for Alfie Solomons, the very air around him bending as he walked into a bar Tommy had picked for its proximity to Alfie’s hotel. The older man was one of the few he would make allowances for, and it had been so long that he would rather take a private car the half an hour into central Birmingham than make the effort to convince him to come to small heath and listen to him complain the whole time.

“Thomas” his booming London accent turned the heads that weren’t already staring at Tommy, and he couldn’t help the bemused smile which washed over his features as he shook his hand and settled to drink his whiskey.

“Alfie, it’s been a while,” he speaks, sipping at his glass knowing full well which comment is coming next.

“Yeah well you don’t get to London as much these days,” He catches the bartender's attention, a woman who eyes up Tommy when she comes over to take his order, her eyes only leaving his friend to make Alfie’s drink.

“You could always come here,” Tommy suggests, causing Alfie to snort. His disdain for the northern city clear in both his response and his body language.

“Mate, the only reason I’m in this shit city is cause of that fucking meeting, couldn’t get me here any other way,” he comments, Tommy giving him a hint of a smile behind his glass which only widens as he watches his friend attempt to hide a selfie of all things which had made its way to his lock screen.

“So, how’s the family then?” Alfie asks.

“Arthur got married,” Tommy tries and fails to keep his distaste for Linda from his voice, and Alfie smirks as he relishes in the hate which is so evident to someone who is also quick to anger.  

“And I wasn’t invited? What’s she like?” He quips

“She’s good for Arthur,” is all Tommy says, the comments he could make about his brother’s new wife unsavoury at best.

It’s then that Alfie’s phone buzzes once again, and with a second glance at his lock screen Tommy can’t keep his comments to himself any longer.

“Who’s that then aye?” Tommy says, inclining his head towards Alfie’s phone. “Got yourself a girlfriend, have you?”

“Yeah mate, I have. She’s fucking brilliant she is,” Alfie says, rolling his eyes at the smirk that crosses his friend’s lips.

“You’re going soft Solomons.”

“Fuck off,” Alfie says, the smile which splits his face something that was a rarity, and the bashfulness something Tommy had never seen in him before. “She wrote that piece on me for The City Scoop.”

“I wondered why that interview was so flattering, fucked your interviewer did you?”

“Took her out to dinner first mate,” he says with a grin, making Tommy shake his head. “I’m telling you, it’s fucking nice having someone around who wil-“

“Suck your cock?”

“She is good at that mate. Nah I’m telling you, it’s nice having a woman around to keep me company,” he says, and Tommy rolls his eyes.

“Fuck, you have gone soft,” Tommy mutters, shaking his head.

“Maybe so. It ain’t that bad though. Maybe it’s time you find yourself a girl, might be good for you.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, downing the rest of his drink to avoid replying which only causes Alfie’s grin to spread wider his face lighting up.  

“Or do you already have a girl Thomas?”

“I’ve been talking with a woman yes,” he offers, though doesn’t elaborate as he orders another drink.

“Talking aye? And where did you meet her?”

“Tinder,” Tommy mutters, fingers itching to reach into his pocket for a cigarette the no-smoking laws the only thing stopping him.

Alfie scoffs, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his beard while Tommy glares at him.

“What?”

“Fucking tinder? Can’t meet a girl the old-fashioned way, aye?”

Tommy clenches his jaw at the insinuation, choosing not to rise to the comment as his hand reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing against his cigarette case.

“Like having a magazine send a journalist to your work? That old way you mean?” He runs the cigarette along his bottom lip and glares at the bartender who moves to tell him that he can’t smoke indoors, piercing eyes daring anyone to test him.

Tommy’s phone lights up and he immediately turns it face down, “besides, easier isn’t it? Haven’t got time to be spending on women in bars or journalists I need to write a good profile about me because I punched someone without thinking.”

The smirk on Tommy’s face tells Alfie that he’s joking, but the bearded man takes a sip of his beer without a hint of amusement washing over his features.

“Never knew Tommy Shelby to be so desperate that he’d turn to fucking Tinder.“ Tommy scowls and takes a long drag on his cigarette

“And I never knew Alfie Solomons to be so soft that he’d have his girl as the fucking wallpaper on his phone.”

Alfie shakes his head, hours flying before he finished what could have been his third or sixth drink, his hand resting on Tommy’s shoulder as he stood.

“I’ll be off now then,” he says, before leaning in to speak directly in Tommy’s ear. “And by the way mate, I was thinking before I punched Sabini.”

Patting Tommy’s shoulder, he makes his way out of the pub turning back to look at his friend.

“Nice seeing you mate, give me a call next time you’re in London.”

What Tommy has failed to tell his friend was that if things went well, he saw himself spending a lot more time in the capital. He suspected his friend might have something to say about his admission that he would want to spend more time away from his hometown, and he had won the battle of who was more whipped. At least for now.

[starside-selfships]

Homecoming

Tonight was certainly not in my favor for the most part. To bring you up to speed, it was homecoming night for my younger brother, along with his friends, and I was an unpaid chauffeur for them. Whether I said yes or no to my mom, which the latter would result in a scolding, I would still be driving, whether I liked it or not. I had plans to meet up with someone tonight and now, unfortunately, I had to cancel those plans. Wonderful. So much for treating myself. Saying yes to avoid any conflict between my mother and I, I was driving my brother and his group of boys and girls, one of them most likely his significant other, to the nearby high school, the same one where I graduated from, but I don’t think any of that really mattered. Sure, there were going to be people there that recognized me, but it’s not like I planned on going inside to dance or mingle. Don’t get me wrong, I was gussied up for the occasion, but with how tonight was already progressing, going inside to try and get into the groove was not on my agenda. Little did I know that I was going to be completely wrong. 

We were nearing the school as I was in the driver’s seat and I focused on the road as best I could, overhearing the conversation in the back amongst the group of seniors about how my brother was probably going to get laid or something, followed by a roar of laughter. While he was of age, as am I, I didn’t think I would be hit with a strong dose of discomfort hearing those words coming out of their mouths. Yeah, they were in high school so it made sense for them to say stuff like that. Already I began to question this night before my thoughts started to shift towards a particular someone that made my smile return after it had been gone for hours. A demon, or imp rather, down in hell that no one knew, except for a few of my closest friends who I knew could definitely keep a secret, had my heart and more. My smile remained small, but it was genuine, a chuckle eliciting from me as I continued to drive and within seconds of starting to think about him, I noticed my phone vibrating in the front passenger seat out of the corner of my eye. Look, I am, and I quote from one of my favorite content creators, a “good fucking citizen” and I would never risk my life or others because of a single text message. However, this wasn’t a single text. Whoever was trying to reach me was literally trying to nuke my phone for I counted the vibrations from listening closely to them. I didn’t bother picking up my phone so I just counted. 1...2...3...4...5...not even five minutes and I’ve somehow counted 23 and rising text messages being sent to my phone. Was it that urgent or was someone just spamming me with nonsense because I can’t remember the last time I was spammed like that and my memory is on point, not to brag or anything.

Upon pulling into one of the many parking lots of the high school, my brother and his friends began unbuckling themselves from their seats and after setting the SUV into “park”, they all got out one by one, on both sides, putting on their masks. I forgot to mention that this homecoming had a theme, which was “Monster Mash”, so zombies, mummies, your usual batch of monsters from all types of media of course, along with the special monsters that only one or two people only knew and were ready to discuss and talk about at a moment’s notice. As much as I wanted to sit in the car, I knew I was going to have to go in at some point, so earlier today, I decided I was going as a werewolf, picking up a fitting mask from the city’s costume store, but instead of just having a mask and calling it a day, it evolved into something more homemade. I spent several extra hours turning my tux into a more fitting and lycanthrope-themed outfit, dark fur lining the edges and front of my suit, outfitting myself with wolf ears and covering my face in blood to represent claw marks. Thankfully, I remembered that I had an old wolf tail, cleaning it up and hoping that the appearance was pleasing to the eye in some way and to my surprise, it certainly was. Not like anyone was going to care honestly, but you know, what’s wrong with a little bit of effort, even if no one’s going to notice?

“You’re not coming?” My brother questioned as he reached for his mask and was about to head inside with the others, earning a shake of my head as a response.

“We’ll see, you go have fun, okay?” I said, seeing him run off back to this squad and closing the car door as I rested my head on the back of my seat and sigh heavily. Finally, no one could hear or see me cry, the lights on the inside roof of the car beginning to slowly dim, shutting off completely and leaving me in darkness. “Fuck.” I whispered, trying not to choke on my tears thanks to the numerous thoughts clouding my head, many of them were memories of my high school days and how they all just generally sucked. I’m going to spare you of the details, but in short, I was a teacher’s pet who did good, had good grades, and tried so hard not to get caught up in a relationship since, well, at the time I wasn’t into anyone and nor was anyone into me. Looking back at it, I’ve never been hit with an intense pain in my life. But then, my thoughts were interrupted by another vibration. “Alright, who’s trying to nuke my phone?” I told myself as I reached over and grabbed my phone in frustration, turning the screen on and discovering that the imp himself had been sending me a flood of messages, alongside his employees, including the hellhound. “Wait, what?” I was stunned, why was I getting all these messages from I.M.P? Unlocking my phone and going through the wave of texts and images, most of them being from Blitzo, I checked the ones belonging to Millie, Loona, and Moxxie first, working my way up from there.

Millie “Hey Eli!” “Just wanted to say that I hope tonight is great for you and Blitzo!” “He has a really big surprise for you!” “Have fun you two!”

Loona “Elijah” “Heard ya weren’t feeling great” “Shit sucks but Blitz has a surprise for you later tonight” “Ain’t saying shit, but I hope you have fun” “You deserve it, alright?”

Moxxie “Dear Elijah, I certainly hope your night is swell. I overheard from my boss that it wasn’t going as planned and not to spoil anything, but he has a surprise for you later tonight. Have fun!” “p. s it’ll be a nice break from him interfering with my relationship with Millie.”

And now, all that there was left to check was Blitzo, I didn’t bother holding back my tears. Who was going to watch? Most of his texts were pictures of him looking for an outfit, getting help from a smiling Millie, annoyed Moxxie, and a Loona who looked like she didn’t really care. That’s what the realization hit me soon after. I didn’t want to believe it, but I looked through every single text again and yeah, sure enough, it was real. The imp was my date. Blitzo was my homecoming date. Another text, the last one from Blitzo for the night it seemed, sounding ominous of course.

“See ya soon, Eli. XOXO”

My smile returned once again as I regained my thoughts, clearing my head and doing my best to ignore all the negative and previous ones that arrived earlier tonight, replacing all of them with one: the fact that the imp that nearly killed me by accident was my homecoming date. The two of us have talked and spent a lot of time together, but who would’ve thought that he would be the one I would fall for and make my better in a way like this? Yeah, I was into him the most out of everyone at I.M.P. Of course, Millie and Moxxie were married and Loona, I’ll be honest, she was someone who appeared that she wasn’t too keen on dating. Blitzo, on the other hand, ever since the two of us met with him pounced over my body with a double barrel shotgun aimed directly at my face, we’re never been closer. That story about how we met is a real doozy, but it’s certainly for another time.

After waiting a little longer, I finally left the vehicle and locked the doors, stuffing the keys in my pocket and trading it for my phone, holding the mask in my other hand, my body on fire at the constant, recurring thought that wasn’t leaving anytime soon, one that pushed all the others away, a splendid thought that was the only thing I could think of. Before I knew it, I was at the front doors of the school and I followed the couples and groups, most likely students, towards the gym, looking at my phone and expecting a text, but instead, just silence. I guess all I needed to do was wait for him, and that’s what I did as I was greeted with the sound of deep bass rumbling through my body thanks to the booming speakers, along with the bright spotlights that moved around at a rapid pace, mixed with multiple multicolored strobe lights. It was a party alright. With the song that was playing as well, it was a fitting one with the theme. And lost in this party, I assumed, was a neatly dressed imp waiting for me. I walked along the edge of the gym, avoiding the growing crowd of dancers and hoping to possibly run into Blitzo at some point, only to be stopped by, unsurprisingly, one of my high school teachers. 

“Elijah, is that you? Hey kid, what brings you here?!” She asked, leaning against the wall with a drink, a red cup, yes a red cup, and wrapped in a mummy outfit, bandages covering her body, along with one eye while the other was perfectly visible.

“Just chaperoning for my brother and his friends.” I answered, which was half the truth, but how could I explain that I was waiting for my demonic plus one?

“For a chaperone, you fit in right with the crowd, nice outfit! Did you make it yourself?”

 “Yeah, I did actually.”

 “I always knew you were one of the more creative ones in the class and it shows, awesome job!” I found myself getting blushy rather quickly at her compliment, rubbing the back of my head as I continued the conversation and it soon turned into one where my heart began to race rapidly. “So, tell me, do you have a date?” I wanted to lie, but then again, I was unsure of Blitzo was my date, or even if I wanted to say he was to others, so I took a deep breath and tried to make up my mind quickly.

“Yeah, I do, he’s a bit late though, it might be a while before he gets here.”

“Who said I was late?” The imp said, grabbing ahold of my shoulder gently and wanting me to turn around so I did, my eyes meeting his and I could see that his were that wickedly bright yellow, with a hint of red in the middle. Sinister, but always a joy to look at. “Hey, cutie.” I was about to open my mouth to compliment his outfit, resembling Jack Skellington from The Nightmare Before Christmas, from top to bottom, only for my teacher to butt in. This was going to be a joy.

“Oooooh, and who might this be, Elijah?! He must learn from the best because his costume’s amazing!” This was going to be a real interesting night. I was already contemplating on going back to the car.

 “The name’s Blitzo, pronounced Blitz and the O is silent, also known as this handsome guy’s boyfriend.” He said, greeting himself to-

...HOLD UP, WAIT A MINUTE. Did he just say boyfriend? Was I hearing that correctly? I wasn’t crazy, right?

“The name’s Blitzo, the O is silent, also known as this handsome guy’s boyfriend.” He said, greeting himself to-wait a minute, did he just say boyfriend? Did I hear that correctly? I wasn’t crazy, right?

“Well, Blitzo, it was really nice to meet you. Elijah was, and still is, one of my best students, creative too, you’re a lucky one.”

“Oh, trust me,” He looked over at me, a look that read ‘I love you’, his eyes appearing as if he was going to cry, but his smile was wide. “I know.” He was being completely truthful with her and myself. Not a single word he said was a lie, at least that’s what I believed. Something told me that it was true, every single word was honest and straight from the heart. “Let’s go dance, yeah?” He said softly towards me, earning a soft nod in reply and so, the two of us made our way to the dance floor. I was so nervous to ask him a single question with a plentiful rushing through my head. “Shocked, huh? Don’t be, Elijah. I know the two of us have been together for some time and I may have heard from a little birdie that you were going to be helping out your brother for some dance.” I reminisced on when I remember talking about the homecoming dance and then it hit me.

“Damn it, Angel.”

“C’mon, you missed me. You’re glad she told me too.”

“Yeah, I did. But, like, didn’t you have some more important stuff, like work? And your horse to take care of?”

“Oh, don’t worry. Work’s slow and boring and Moxxie’s watching over her so, I’m free for the night! What better way to spend my night with my new boyfriend too?” He said, pressing his lips against my cheek and sending my heart sky high, my hand on his beginning to clench. “Easy cowboy, it was just a kiss. We haven’t even gotten to the good stuff, you know.” Okay, now he was just trying to get me flustered really early. We made jokes about that stuff, but was he being serious? About all of this?

“I was actually going to ask about that. Do you, like, you’re actually interested in me, right?” He stopped in his tracks and the two of us were halted together, surrounded by multiple dancing groups and couples, I could sense the music that was once pounding in my ears beginning to die out, soon Blitzo’s voice was the only thing I could hear. “All those times we’ve been together, from the day you were in my bed ready to kill me and only to discover you were in the wrong house to all those times we’ve spent in Hell and on the surface, to that one time you were actually full-on naked in my bed and I was nearly caught, you’re being honest with me, right?”

“Elijah,” Blitzo began, reaching for my other hand to hold it tight, gazing into my eyes and I soon lost myself in them, my focus and attention being grabbed and held by him and him alone. “I’m being one hundred percent honest with you. If I killed you, I would’ve missed a chance like this and, god fucking dammit, I’m trying not to cry here.”

“Trust me, I’ve already done that tonight, you’re good.” I joked, the two of us laughing as his claw-like hands gripped mine.

“But yeah, I’m serious. From the bottom of my heart, Elijah. No bullshit. I love you. Yeah, you’re a human and I nearly killed you, but that night I met you and nearly blew your brains out, was probably the fucking day of my whole eternal suffering, as they usually say. That’s, that’s what they say, right?” Hearing that filled my heart with an intense amount of joy and soon, I felt my worries wash away. Who would’ve thought that I would not only fall in love with a demon below the surface of this Earth, but an imp who was not only charming, but skilled at his profession? A professional that was basically assassination. Then again, he just straight up kills anyone he’s paid to kill alongside the other three. “You can cry all you want, okay?” I didn’t want to, especially in front of Blitzo.

“Oh, shut up. I love you too.” I said, earning a nice laugh from him. Moments later, the music shifted from the usual extremely bumping and loud beat into something more mellow, but you could still dance to. A song that people weren’t really a fan of, but for me, and surprisingly Blitzo, it was perfect. To my surprise, the imp knew the damn lyrics.

Oh, don’t you dare look back Just keep your eyes on me. I said, you’re holding back. He said, shut up and dance with me! This demon is my destiny. He said, ooh-ooh-hoo! Shut up and dance with me!

The two of us followed suit and already had the floor so who was gonna stop us? No one was certainly going to stop Blitzo and for me, I was already lost in the moment, I could only see Blitzo and I losing ourselves in the music together, singing and dancing along. No distractions or disturbances as we let loose. Unbeknownst to me, the crowd around us had cleared and it was just me and Blitzo dancing to the beat with a silent audience cheering on a human and his boyfriend, unaware that he was truly a demon. I didn’t care about any of that mess now, I was overjoyed to be dancing with my imp boyfriend under the moving spotlight, the two of us grabbing the attention of all the other costumed people standing by and watching us. It didn’t even feel like they were there.

Deep in his eyes I think I see the future I realize this is my last chance! He took my arm I don’t know how it happened We took the floor and he said…

Oh, don’t you dare look back Just keep your eyes on me I said, you’re holding back He said, shut up and dance with me This demon is my destiny He said, ooh-ooh-hoo! Shut up and dance!

The final chorus continued to play and the two of us were going at it, I could sense and hear quiet cheers and wolf whistles, yet Blitzo’s voice filled my ears and drowned it all out.

Ooh-hoo, shut up and dance with me!

And just like that, the music halted and the two of us were in a bit of a position, me dipping and holding his body down, our eyes locked onto each other, the crowd coming back to life with a roar of an applause. They witnessed everything and as much as I wanted to look around and see everyone, Blitzo kept my face looking directly at his. “Hey, don’t focus on them. It’s okay.” I smiled down at him and nodded, the music shifting back into something more exciting and full of life and sending the crowd’s back onto the floor.

 “I didn’t know you were so good at dancing, Blitzo.” I said, complimenting him on his dancing and wondering where he picked that up, then again, it hit me that he’s been bugging a married couple for Satan knows how long, and he’s been on the surface a few times.

 “You go around, you know some folks, you pick up some new things, learn a few tricks.” There was a small moment of silence. “Alright, I picked it up from Moxx and Mills.” I had a feeling. Right as I was about to say something while bringing back up onto his feet, I was the one to be dipped this time and caught off guard. “Now pucker up, cutie~” And with that, Blitzo kissed me sweetly and passionately, my vision getting blurry as my eyes fluttered and my heart was more soothed and relaxed. I will admit that Blitzo has kissed me on numerous occasions, but this was something he never pulled or did and it was immensely surprisingly and completely satisfying. I didn’t want to ruin the moment at all. In fact, I wanted to make it even better. So I decided to surprise Blitzo with something up my sleeve, slipping my tongue into his mouth and catching him off guard, only for our tongues to collide and intertwine with each other, his claws yanking and gripping me closer to his body, our lips still locked together for a good couple of seconds and right as we finally pulled away, there was an embarrassing amount of saliva attached to my lips and his, a dark blush hitting both our faces. “Well, that was, I wasn’t expecting you to do that.”

“Yeah, wasn’t expecting that kiss either, heh.” The silence between us was high but was soon broken with Blitzo speaking up again.

“Alright, I’m just gonna say it. I know you’re probably thinking it too, are you going to make love to me already or what?” My eyes widened in surprise, my body heating up in response and while I was expecting a lewd comment or question, he was just completely straightforward with it, no hints, or riddles, just straight from the head.

“C-Can we go to the car now, like, right now?” I asked, hoping he could sense the desperateness in my voice, along with the look of lust in my eyes. Yeah, he definitely saw it, without a doubt. That smile of his, how he licked his lips in front of me, shooting a sexy glare at me, tonight was going to be a ride, in more ways than one as Blitzo swiftly picked me up in his arms and carried me towards the car bridal-style, grabbing a few eyeballs as he did.

“Of course~” We soon made our way outside and Blitzo finally set me down, not even bothering to look around if there were any watchers who were late to the party, as if he were planning something.

“Something wrong?” He didn’t reply with a vocal answer, but instead, what came next was what made this entire night probably the best homecoming ever. I’m going to spare the details, but what came next was pretty saucy.

Sometime Later…

I found myself rising out of bed to the sight of several dimmed lights and within seconds, the awareness hit me hard. I wasn’t at home. I was in Blitzo’s home. “Morning, sleepyhead.” The imp to my side greeted, not wearing anything like me as I hid myself under the sheets. I half-expected him to be dressed in some cute horse-themed pjs, but no, he was full-on naked under the sheets, his legs touching mine.

“Hey, Blitzo. I, umm, should I ask how I got here?” I questioned, preparing myself for the story that Blitzo had to tell, this should be good.

“Before you ask, because I have a feeling that’s the first thing you’re thinking about, your brother and his friends are fine. They got home safely and then I brought you down here to rest!” Blitzo explained, my eyes widening in fear at the idea of what he could’ve possibly done.

“For the love of God, Blitzo, please tell me the car’s in one piece. Please tell me no one got hurt.” I begged, shaking in anticipation, and not even hearing the room door open as I turned to see Moxxie come in.

“Actually, I helped drive,” The other imp claimed. “Not to be rude towards your new boyfriend, Elijah, but I had a very strong feeling that if my boss were to drive, it wouldn’t be pleasant. That and he introduced himself and the rest of us to your brother and friends.” Blitzo, you did not. You did fucking not.

“What, they were nice!”

“Sir, excuse my language, but you fucking scared them!” When Moxxie said those words, I didn’t even want to imagine how he scared and possibly scared them for life.

“Oh my God, Blitzo, why…”

“Don’t worry about it, Eli, you’re lucky I didn’t tell them about our little love-making session.”

“Sir, that’s WAY too much information.”

I didn’t know how to feel exactly with my brother knowing about Blitzo and the others, but as the conversation between him and Moxxie continued, I couldn’t help but think about that night, what I experienced with Blitzo and the things we did together, how he confessed his love and then made love to me. It felt unreal to think about knowing that the imp I spent the most time with actually liked me that way. That’s when I smiled and felt really glad that night ended up being in my favor.

[syntheticsoulmates]

Day 17- Director

Tom was expecting the air raid sirens. The bombs. The orphanage shaking down to the foundations as they all crammed in the bomb shelter besides the eyed potatoes. He was expecting the stale fear sweat scent as they all huddled together. He was even expecting Mrs. Cole to down a flask of gin without even sharing with the other matrons.

He was not expecting a polite rap against the bomb shelter door, and an even voice calling “Hello?”

The whole room hunkered down further. They couldn’t open doors during a raid. No matter that they shouldn’t even be able to hear that mild mannered voice.

The orphanage shook again. “Well, that won’t do,” the voice said, sounding cross, and then Tom felt a huge wave of magic course through the room, through him, enveloping everything. Suddenly the orphanage was terribly still and quiet, the air raid sirens gone. Tom hissed at the sheer power of the shield charm as it fizzled and sparked inside him.

The Muggles around him side-eyed him. They couldn’t feel that wash of pure power.

“I’m terribly sorry,” came the voice, completely unassuming considering what Tom had just felt. “I know this is alarming, but I’m afraid I’ll have to come in.”

Mrs. Cole, surprisingly, put down her flask. “‘Ain’t no one coming in, no how!” She called.

“Er, yes, apologies, but, er, I’m afraid there’s a time constraint?” And then the door and the cross bar just unfurled themselves, exposing a slight man wearing a hideous maroon jumper with a big goldenrod ‘H’ and a short black wand in his hand.

Magic. The orphanage turned as one to stare at Tom. Tom put his chin up under the scrutiny, refusing to be intimidated.

“I’m looking for a Tom Marvolo Riddle?” called the man, smiling crooked and self-deprecatory, obviously trying to put them all at ease. He was utterly clean, too clean to have been wandering around London. He pushed thick black (what material was that?) spectacles up his nose and peered around, looking slightly anxious and embarrassed for having broken in. Tom could tell it was an act to case the entirety of the room. 

Amy shoved Tom in front, even as he hissed at her, uncaring. He hadn’t quite hit his final growth spurt and she was still stronger than him from all the time she spent making bread with the matrons. He straightened his clothes best he could. He did not pick at the holes on the sleeves of his depressingly grey jumper.  He pretended like he’d meant to step forward and gave his best cool, unconcerned look.  

“Ah!” The man obviously knew Tom on sight, smile tinging with relief. His shoulders dropped a little. “Oh good! You’re still alive.” Tom’s gut chilled and he carefully did not snarl, did not let himself fall into the well of that familiar rage. Yes, he was still alive, no thanks to the goddamned magical world, or these bleeding Muggles, so determined to kill themselves and take him with them.

But then Tom stopped, and re-regarded the man in the doorway. Obviously a wizard, although not as tone deaf as Dumbledore in his banana yellow suit. Tom’s heart skipped a beat. Had they sent someone to rescue him? His throat felt tight.

The man strode forward, broad, confident strides. He held out his hand, although kept his wand ready in his left. “Harry Potter, Director of Magical Law Enforcement.” He paused. “Well, I will be, I suppose. Or won’t, maybe, if this goes right.” He murmured to himself, almost inaudibly. Then, a brightened: “Pleasure to meet you.” 

Potter wasn’t directly looking at him, scanning the room still, almost for a threat. Was this a trick, trying to get him to violate the Statute of Secrecy and get him kicked out of Hogwarts? Had Dumbledore sent this man? Tom looked at Mrs. Cole, who was gaping at Potter. Would it be worth it, anyway, to get out of this sad excuse of a bomb shelter and away from these bombs?

Tom held out his hand, tentatively, not sure how to take that pronouncement. Potter’s hand was small, but warm, and the heat sapped into his cold hands and made joints he didn’t even know were aching stop. The buzzing strength of Potter’s magic pulsed obviously under the skin. Potter pumped his hand, once, twice. “Pleasure,” Tom forced out, running this scenario through his head. Could he dare to hope for a rescue?

Potter kept his face smiling, but his slight eyebrow twitched, like he could tell Tom was lying. “Well, anyway, we need to get out of here right now,” Potter said, urgent. He started to herd Tom to the door. “I cast a shield, but it will only work against Muggle weaponry. Do you have your wand?” He looked Tom up and down. “Pull it out. Don’t worry about the Trace. I’m giving you dispensation to-”

Then Mrs. Cole. Melted.

“Traitor!” The melted morass of Mrs. Cole shrieked, growing taller, eyes glowing. A thick rope of stuff reached out and grabbed Tom around the wrist.

“Bugger!” Potter shouted, and sent a burst of spell-fire at Mrs. Cole, catching her across the torso and arm, blowing Tom free. The top half of the Mrs. Cole-that-wasn’t splattered across the wall and Billy Stubbs like so much mud. The bottom of half of Mrs. Cole kept moving, and Tom felt a pull in the air, like being squeezed, and the bottom of Mrs. Cole seemed to attract itself back in.

Billy Stubbs screamed and then choked as the sludge of Mrs. Cole sucked itself out of his mouth and reformed.

Potter grabbed Tom by the shoulder and yanked him towards the door. Tom blinked like an idiot, watching Mrs. Cole’s flesh writhe and restructure itself. Her chin opened, a giant maw, revealing a morass of uneven jagged teeth and a thick black pulpy tongue. Potter made an exasperated sound, and then seized Tom by the back of the neck and physically hauled him out the door.

Potter sent the door crashing shut with an non-verbal flick of his wand, and Tom caught up to himself enough to draw his own wand out of his pocket.

Potter didn’t stop, continuing to pull Tom out of the orphanage basement roughly. Tom could see the thick sludge that comprised Mrs. Cole squeezing itself out through the door’s sill and almost gagged.

“What the hell is that?!” Tom shrieked.

Potter grunted, and hauled him bodily up the stairs. Tom tried to get his legs underneath him, but they felt like a baby faun’s, struggling but still collapsing.  “Homunculus of some sort, I imagine. It’s been sent to kill you. Keep up.”

Tom looked down at his wrist, a bright red from the not!Mrs. Cole’s grip, and puzzled that over. He hardly seemed important enough to kill, as much as that pronouncement flattered. “And you?” Tom asked, feeling crazed.

“I’m here to help,” Potter clipped. “Which would be easier if you would move on your own.” Tom flushed red with embarrassment and anger, but managed to get his legs underneath him and keep pace.

The morass of Mrs. Cole appeared on the stairs, stretching unnaturally like pulled taffy, and Potter flicked his wand again. She froze, literal icicles dripping from her. Tom shivered at the sudden drop of temperature. The mass of Mrs. Cole began to crack. He wondered whether to shatter her, if that would help or hurt after she’d drawn herself back together. He did nothing.

Potter got them to the door of the orphanage, and Tom pulled up short, suddenly washed with cold fear, more than the mess that wasn’t Mrs. Cole could ever hope to inspire.  

“There’s an air raid out there,” Tom hissed.

“I am aware,” Potter clipped, as he threw Tom through the doorway into the utterly empty street. Tom fought like a cat being thrown into a bath, but it was no use. How could a man so small be so Merlin-damned strong? 

“Can’t we just Apparate?” Tom asked, terrified. He knew the second they’d stepped out of the protective shield of Potter’s casting. Potter’s magic left his skin with a sensation not unlike a soft kiss, and the blaring of the air raid sirens took up again.  They were deafening him after that thick safe quiet. Tom heard the thick crash and boom of bombs in the distance, and the thunder of planes. The scent of burning was thick in his nose. His skin crawled, exposed, and he burst into sweat. The very sky was terrifying.

“Can’t. That thing has proximity wards. We need to get far enough away.” Potter said, too utterly blasé at the death awaiting them all around. “Hurry.” He paused, looked at Tom, did a double take. He drew Tom close to him, close enough to sort of knock their foreheads together. Tom felt his sweaty skin press up against the man’s forehead and fought to breathe. “Relax. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He said. His breath smelled slightly of mint. “I swear.”

Tom nodded and stumbled behind, shell-shocked and shaking.

[dumbledearme]

chapter twenty-eight—from nowhere to nowhere

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act IV — To Stop The Tide

Part III — We don’t have to say it ‘cause we both know it’s true: I wouldn’t have nothing if I didn’t have you.

There was a boy in a Greek tunic and sandals crouching alone in a massive stone room. The ceiling was open to the night sky, but the walls were twenty feet high and polished marble. The boy huddled in the corner, shivering from cold, or maybe fear. He was spattered in mud.

The double oak doors moaned open. Two guards in bronze armor marched in, holding an old man between them. They flung him to the floor in a battered heap.

"Father!" the boy ran to him. The man's robes were in tatters. His hair was streaked with gray, and his beard was long and curly. There was blood on his face. "What did they do to you?" the boy cried. "I'll kill you!" he yelled at the guards.

"There will be no killing today," a voice said. The guards moved aside. Behind them was a tall man in white robes. His eyes glittered cruelly. "You helped the Athenian kill my Minotaur, Daedalus. You turned my own daughter against me."

"You did that yourself, Your Majesty," the old man croaked.

"You love your maze so much," the king said, "I have decided to let you stay here. This will be your workshop. Make me new wonders. Amuse me. Every maze needs a monster. You shall be mine."

"I don't fear you," the old man groaned.

The king smiled coldly. "But a man cares about his son, eh? Displease me, old man, and the next time my guards inflict a punishment, it will be on him!" And he swept out of the room with his guards.

The boy and his father were left alone in the darkness.

"What will we do?" the boy moaned. "Father, they will kill you!"

The old man swallowed with difficulty. "Take heart, my son," he tried to smile. "I will find a way."

A bar lowered across the doors with a fatal BOOM, and Andy woke in a cold sweat.

Chiron had decided to call the war council in the morning. They met in the sword arena to discuss the fate of the camp while Mrs O'Leary chewed on a toy. Chiron and Quintus stood at the front. Clarisse and Anthony sat next to each other and led the briefing. Tyson and Grover sat as far away from each other as possible; the two of them didn't really get along. Also present around the table were Juniper, Silena Beauregard, Travis and Connor Stoll, Beckendorf, Lee Fletcher and even Argus.

"Luke must have known about the Labyrinth entrance," Anthony was saying. "He knew everything about camp."

Juniper cleared her throat. "The cave entrance has been there a long time. Luke used to use it."

Silena frowned. "You knew about the entrance and you didn't say anything?"

Juniper's face turned green. "I did say something. Yesterday. I didn't know it was important, okay? It was just a cave. I wouldn't have paid any attention except... well, it was Luke," she blushed a little greener.

"I think it's the jaw," Andy pointed out. "When I saw him for the first time, I thought damn."

Silena giggled. Anthony glanced at Andy annoyed. He really had no sense of humor whatsoever.

"Interesting," said Quintus. "And you believe this young man would dare use the Labyrinth as an invasion route?"

"Definitely," Clarisse said. "If he could get an army of monsters inside Camp Half-Blood, just pop up in the middle of the woods without having to worry about our magical boundaries, we wouldn't stand a chance. He could wipe us out easy. He must've been planning this for months."

"He's been sending scouts into the maze," Anthony said. "We found one."

"Chris Rodriguez," Chiron said. He gave Quintus a meaningful look.

"Ah," Quintus said. "The one in the... Yes. I understand."

"The one in the what?" Andy asked wondering if something else had happened to that poor boy.

Clarisse glared at her. "The point is, Luke has been looking for a way to navigate the maze. He's searching for Daedalus's workshop."

Andy remembered her dream. "The guy who created the Labyrinth?"

Anthony confirmed. "The greatest architect, the greatest inventor of all time. If the legends are true, his workshop is in the center of the Labyrinth. He's the only one who knew how to navigate the maze perfectly. If Luke managed to find the workshop and convinced Daedalus to help him, Luke wouldn't have to fumble around searching for paths, or risk losing his army in the maze's traps. He could navigate anywhere he wanted – quickly and safely. First to Camp Half-Blood to wipe us out. Then... to Olympus."

Beckendorf put his huge hands on the table. "Wait a sec, you said 'convince Daedalus'? Isn't he dead?"

Quintus grunted. "I would hope so. He lived, what, three thousand years ago? And even if he were alive, don't the old stories say he fled from the Labyrinth?"

"That's the problem, my dear Quintus," said Chiron. "No one knows. There are rumors... well, there are many disturbing rumors about Daedalus, but one is that he disappeared back into the Labyrinth toward the end of his life. He might still be down there."

"We need to go in," Anthony announced. "We have to find the workshop before Luke does. If Daedalus is alive, we convince him to help us, not Luke. If Ariadne's string still exists, we make sure it never falls into Luke's hands."

"Can't we like... blow the entrance?" Andy suggested.

"No, you moron," growled Clarisse. "We've tried that in Phoenix. It didn't go well."

"And I'm the moron?" Andy sneered.

Clarisse glanced at her with hatred. "Jackson, if don't shut up, I swear-"

"The Labyrinth is a magical architecture, Andy," Anthony meddled. "It would take huge power to seal even one of its entrances. In Phoenix, Clarisse demolished a whole building with a wrecking ball, and the maze entrance just shifted a few feet. The best we can do is prevent Luke from learning to navigate the Labyrinth. We need to get to the workshop, find Ariadne's string and prevent Luke from using it."

"But... If nobody can navigate in there," said Andy, "what chance do we have?"

"I've been studying architecture for years," he said. "I know Daedalus's Labyrinth better than anybody."

"From reading about it."

"Yes."

"It's not enough."

"It has to be."

"It ain't."

"Are you going to help me or not?"

Andy realized the others were watching them. "Of course."

Chiron cleared his throat. "First things first. We need a quest."

"We all know who should lead this," Clarisse said. "Chase."

There was a murmur of agreement. Anthony shifted uncomfortably. "You've done as much as I have, Clarisse," he told her. "You should go, too."

The girl shook her head vehemently. "I am never going back in there."

Travis Stoll laughed. "Chicken!"

Clarisse got to her feet violently and said with a shaky voice, "You understand nothing, punk. I will never go in there again! Never!" And she stormed out of the arena.

Travis tried to apologize, but Chiron stopped him. "The poor girl has had a difficult year. So we have an agreement that Tony should lead the quest?" Everyone nodded. "Very well. Son, it's time you visit the Oracle."

Andy paced the arena waiting for Anthony. The others seemed busy enough, chatting, laughing, telling jokes.

Juniper came toward her. "I want to tell you something," she whispered urgently. "Luke wasn't the only one I saw around that cave." She glanced behind her shoulder. "The sword master. He was poking around the rocks."

"Quintus? When?"

"I don't know. I don't pay attention to time. Maybe a week ago, when he first showed up."

"Did he go in?"

"I'm not sure... Andy, he's creepy. I didn't even see him come into the glade. He was just there. Appeared. I don't think we can trust him." Grover then called her and she went toward him.

Distressed and uneasy, Andy headed across the fields and into the Big House. She had to see why Anthony was taking so long. When she got to the stairs, she hesitated. She heard sobbing coming from below. Andy crept around the back of the stairs and saw that the basement door was open. She peered inside. Clarisse was sitting with Chris Rodriguez. He was shaking and sobbing.

"Please, Chris," she was saying, "try a little more nectar."

"You're an illusion, mom!" he shouted. "Get away from me!"

"I'm not your mom," Clarisse's voice was gentle and sad. "I'm Clarisse. Remember me? Please... say that you do."

"It's dark!" he yelled. "So dark!"

"Come outside," Clarisse coaxed. "The sunlight will help you."

"A... a thousand skulls. The earth keeps healing him."

"Chris," she pleaded, close to tears. "You have to get better. Please. I need you to get better."

Chris's eyes were like a cornered rat's – wild and desperate. "There's no way out, mom. No way out." Then he caught a glimpse of Andy and made a strangled, terrified sound. "Child of land and sea! Child of Poseidon! Get away!"

Andy backed away, hoping Clarisse hadn't seen her. She ran back to the arena and found that Anthony had returned. "Where were you? I got the prophecy," he said.

"What did the prophecy say exactly? The wording is important," Chiron said.

Anthony took a deep breath. "You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze. The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise."

"The lost one!" Grover perked up. "That must mean Pan!"

"You shall rise or fall by the ghost king's hand," Anthony continued. "The son of Athena's final stand." Everyone looked around uncomfortably.

"What else?" asked Chiron. "It doesn't sound complete."

Anthony hesitated. "I... I don't remember."

Chiron raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember, Tony?"

"Something about... Destroy with a hero's final breath."

"And?" Chiron insisted.

"The point is," Anthony cut, "I have to go in. I'll find the workshop and stop Luke. And..." he turned to Andy. "Will you come?"

"Yes," she said promptly.

He smiled relieved. "Grover, you too?" Grover nodded. "And Tyson. I'll need you too."

"Yay!" The cyclops clapped crazily.

"Anthony," Chiron warned, "this goes against the Ancient Laws. A hero is allowed only two companions."

"I need them all."

"Consider well, son," the centaur said. "You would be breaking the ancient laws, and there are always consequences. Last winter, five went on a quest to save Artemis. Only three came back. Think on that. Three is a sacred number. There are three Fates, three Furies, three Olympia sons of Kronos. It is a good strong number that stands against many dangers. Four... is risky."

"I know. But I need them."

Chiron sighed. "Very well. Let us adjourn. The members of the quest must prepare themselves. Tomorrow at dawn, we send you into the Labyrinth."

Quintus pulled Andy aside as the council was breaking up. "I have a bad feeling about this," he told her. "I don't like the idea of you going down there. Any of you. But if you must, I want you to remember something. The Labyrinth exists to fool you. It will distract you. That's dangerous for half-bloods. We are easily distracted."

"You've been in there?"

"Long ago," his voice was ragged. "I barely escaped with my life. Most who enter aren't that lucky." He gripped her shoulder. "Andy, keep your mind on what matters most. Find an anchor. If you can do that, you might find the way. And here, I wanted to give you this." He handed her a little silver tube. It was terribly cold.

"A whistle?" she asked.

"A dog whistle," Quintus said. "For Mrs O'Leary."

"How-"

"How will it work in the maze? I'm not a hundred percent sure it will. But Mrs O'Leary is a hell-hound. She can appear when called, no matter how far away she is. I'd feel better knowing you had this. If you really need help, use it; but be careful, the whistle is made of Stygian ice."

"What ice?"

"From the River Styx. Very hard to craft. Very delicate. It cannot melt, but it will shatter when you blow it, so you can only use it once."

"Thank you," Andy said, not very thankful. She went to find Anthony, promising herself she would not use the whistle. She had trusted Luke once, she remembered. She would not do that same mistake again.

Andy entered the Athena cabin carefully. The place was a workshop for brainiac kids. She found Anthony sitting on the ground, surrounded by large books, rifling through old scrolls. She knelt beside him. "You okay?"

He frowned. "Just... trying to do some research. Daedalus's Labyrinth is so huge. None of the stories agree about anything. The maps just lead from nowhere to nowhere."

"We'll figure it out."

Anthony dropped a scroll. "I've wanted to lead a quest since I was nine. Maybe... Maybe I shouldn't have asked you to do this. Or Tyson, or Grover."

"Hey. I'm not scared," she told him. "Not one bit. Because I know you're gonna do awesome," she sang out the last word.

Anthony raised his head. He looked at Andy so attentively she wondered if she had forgotten to put on a bra or something. He leaned over as if to kiss her, but then his body tensed and he sighed. "I'm worried," he confessed.

"About the prophecy?" she asked. "What was the last line?"

And then, as if he couldn't contain himself anymore, he did kiss her. Briefly, tensely, but warmly. Anthony backed away and stared at his own hands. "Chiron might be right," he muttered. "I'm breaking the rules. But I don't know what else to do. I need you three with me. It feels right."

Andy smiled weakly. "As long as it feels right..." she nudged him playfully. "We can do this, Anthony. If we do it together."

The gray eyes met the sea-green ones. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

Behind them, somebody cleared his throat. It was one of Anthony's half-brothers, Malcolm. His face was bright red. "Um, sorry," he said. "Archery practice. Chiron said to come find you, Tony."

The gray eyes left the sea-green ones. "I'll be right there," Anthony said and Malcolm left in a hurry. He stood up. "You better go, Andy. Get ready for the quest. I'll see you in the morning." And he left her there surrounded by maps that led from nowhere to nowhere.

But the butterflies in her stomach told a different story. She was finally getting somewhere.

[kfawkes]

It’s You - [Eggsy Unwin x Reader]

[Hi guys! This actually isn’t a prompt… I’m sorry! I just had this idea, and I neeeeeeeded to get it out!!! I just wanna say, this is in no way meant to diss Tilde… I just… Don’t feel their relationship lol, so this is my little fix it for TGC lol. No shit talking on her, or anything like that so don’t worry but it is about her leaving the picture if you get my drift lol ;)

Pairing: Eggsy X Reader

Words: 1.7K

Warnings: Cursing! Always!! :D

— Read on Ao3!]

“What?” You asked quietly nearly at a complete lose of words. 

Now, this may sound dramatic, but it literally felt like your whole world had been turned upside down. Like you had been thrown onstage for a play expected to deliver lines you seriously should know, but didn’t.

There was just no way that Eggsy fucking Unwin was here, saying… this. It just couldn’t be possible. Eggsy was with Tilde– he was going to MARRY Tilde, or at least that was the plan wasn’t it? He did ask her… The wedding was in a few fucking weeks… 

This was literally the princess of Sweden you were talking about, yet here he was in the middle of the night standing on your door step; dripping wet from rain the pounded the city streets outside of your flat. Wearing that bright fucking orange suit jacket you’d helped him pick out several months before… And damnit if he didn’t look just like a dream. 

A very, very confusing dream.

“I love… I love you.” He breathed out again, and still you could hardly believe your ears; even though this was at least the 3rd time you’d made him repeat it. 

Eggsy’s eyes were light yet somehow heavy at the same time; his brows were raised above his glasses and lined in tiny droplets of water. He was holding his umbrella to the side like a crutch, but didn’t use it– and for a moment you wondered why as silly as that sounds. 

But it wasn’t just ‘why’ was he allowing himself to ruin a two thousand dollar suit… It was ‘why’ was he here telling you he loved you. Now of all times. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to.

There weren’t many things you wanted in life, but he was absolutely top of the list. You’d been in love with Eggsy since you met him a little over 3 years ago…

Only you were his best friend… his partner, and the one he went to when shit went down or when he needed someone. You were– not the girl he was supposed to love. 

Eggsy deserved everything, so much better than you. He deserved a fucking princess. Someone royal, elegant… Not some trained killer that just so happened to be really good at computers and enjoyed the same shit movies he did.

“I heard… you. B-but, I don’t understand, Eggsy… you’re with Tilde– you’re marrying Tilde… you can’t ju–” You started, the words falling quickly out of your mouth before you knew exactly what you were even saying; but he interrupted you before you got too far.

“I ain’t marryin’ her…” 

When Eggsy replied you almost couldn’t hear the quit patter of rain anymore. Everything around you seemed so still and silent… Did you actually hear that correctly– had he actually broken it off with her?

“W-what do you mean– you’re… not?” Your voice was rushed and urgent; and you weren’t even trying to hide the surprise or excitement from your tone. 

In those moments of silence you felt your heart thumping dully in your cage of a chest like a drumming. It was pounding so hard it engulfed the droplets and the late cars that passed the flooded streets… It was so thunderous you could feel it booming inside your skull almost relentlessly.

Eggsy stepped closer to you shaking his head briefly, with jaw clenched together tightly behind slightly parted lips; and you could tell he had no idea where to start… But neither did you.

“I couldn’t do it no more…” He looked into your eyes intently sending a wave of nerves and chills like a blanket over your chilled skin. 

After pausing for a moment, he took another step towards you with brows raised passively; with just a hint of sadness cascading his otherwise serene face.

“Havin’ Harry back made me realize somethin’… Somethin’ I think I always knew,” He pulled in a deep breath, dropping the umbrella he held to the side like it was nothing. “that… was hard t’admit.”

Eggsy was only about a foot from you now, and you hadn’t said a thing since he started again. 

What could you say? I love you too? I’m glad you two broke up..? Because that’s exactly what you felt like saying and fuck did you love him too… 

You loved that fucking cheeky smile, and that scar on his eyebrow. You loved his perfect wink and the shape of his jaw. The way he laughed and the color of his eyes… You loved him so fiercely that you sometimes didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

But you’d never have imagined that he’d love you too… Not in a million fucking years. Only, he did. For some fucking reason, he did.

So what else could you do but nod and try to find the words… After a moment you started not nearly as strongly as you intended might you add; crossing your arms, hugging away the chill of night. “And what’s that?” 

“That Tilde– she’s a good person, yeah? … but she ain’t the one I wanna spent my life with. She ain’t ever gonna be that person.” Eggsy spoke honestly, and you knew now that there was no going back from here. You’d crossed a line, and it wasn’t the kind that you could go back over.

“You can’t just… you’re about to get married, Eggsy.  You… you asked her to marry you. There– there are plans, set. Sh-she’s a fucking princess, for fucks sake…”

“She ain’t you.” Eggsy answered quickly, unable to move his eyes from yours. 

And boy did he mean that.. There was nothing he regretted more than letting a false sense of safety entrap him when he was vulnerable. He didn’t like thinking about Tilde or their relationship that way; he cared about her, he really did. Eggsy loved her even… but he wasn’t in love with her, and he knew he never would be. And once he realized that, he also knew he couldn’t go through with it. 

He inched closer to you, and now you could smell the piney scent of his skin… That scent alone was enough to send you flying, and now with the look he gave you– well, lets just say you were in seriously fucking deep here. 

“I never shoulda let it go on like it did– was wrong a’me. Was jus doin’ what I thought was right, as shit as that sounds…” Eggsy slid a hand to your chin, pulling your eyes back to his lightly. 

As he touched you, a chill spread over you and you pulled your eyes tightly shut, enjoying the embrace more than you should. 

Was this what guilt felt like? 

But why should you feel guilty at all… nothing happened. Nothing was happening. Not really. And even if it did– he broke it off with her. They weren’t together. 

You didn’t want to admit it, but you’d been hoping he’d leave her for the last 3 years. It wasn’t something you were proud of, and that guilt alone was enough to make an awkward tension between Tilde and yourself… Now when you thought about it, you wondered if she might have known all along.

“I won’t marry someone I don’t love…” He spoke softly, and finally you met his eyes again. “It ain’t fair to her.”

“I know… You shouldn’t have to.” And you really did mean that. 

You meant what you’d said because even if Eggsy hadn’t just confessed his love for you, you wouldn’t want him stuck in a shit marriage. And he was right, Tilde didn’t deserve to be in one either. 

“You wanna know what Harry said t’me when he came back?” Eggsy asked pulling his lower lip between his teeth nervously; his gaze scrolling your face like a book. “What it was that made me realize…”

For a moment you weren’t sure where this was going, but you nodded lightly ready to listen; enjoying the softness of his thumb tracing your jaw tenderly. 

“He told me that if I ain’t careful– I’d be stuck… stuck doin’ somethin’ I didn’t want. Livin’ a life I hated an wishin’ I’d done it different.” He pulled his other hand to your neck, his fingers barely touching your skin sending feather soft tingling through your limbs. “Didn’t understand at first, course I didn’t…” 

Eggsy paused letting out a deep breath, nodding silently as if he was mustering more courage from deep within. “An for months I couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout it… Then, I jus– knew.”

Now it was hard to keep yourself from crying, but you did– somehow. You pulled your lips together, locking your brows in a soft crinkle as you wait for him to finish.

“I knew… that if I went through with it– with marryin’ her. I’d regret it for the rest of my life.”

At this point you couldn’t stop the salted tears from releasing their gentle decent across your cheeks. What was the point? What was the point in denying that this wasn’t the best news you’d had in months…

“That I’d regret not tellin’ you how I felt… without at lea-” 

You weren’t exactly sure what came over you, but you nearly jumped into his arms; wrapping yours around his neck– pulling him into a long awaited kiss. And you could swear to whatever God was out there, that you’d made it to heaven in that moment; because damn did he feel perfect. 

Eggsy was surprised at first, but he slid his hands around your waist like he’d been doing it for years. Pulling you closer to him, kissing you more fervidly than you’d been kissed before… And you knew that this was what it always should have felt like.

There had been many fantasies involving a kiss like this, but you’d never had imagined it would have been so damn cliche. Kissing in the rain in the middle of the night? It was a bit much, even for you. But you really didn’t give a shit how cheesy it was, because you had wanted this for so long and now it was yours. 

Time nearly stopped, and there was no sound around you… there was just this. 

Just him, and you knew it may be dramatic but once your lips met–  your world spun back to place more complete than before. You may not know what would happen next or if this would last… but you absolutely were ready to find out. 

“I lo.. I love you too, Eggsy.”

[thisisheffner]

Austerity, gentrification and big tunes: why illegal raves are flourishing | Music | The Guardian

It’s an hour after midnight on New Year’s Day 2020, and a stream of revellers is gathering in an alleyway next to KFC on London’s Old Kent Road. They pass between piles of car tyres and through a gap in a gate where a group, wrapped in hats and scarves, are taking £5 notes from each person who enters the yard of a recently abandoned Carpetright warehouse.

Inside, the lights are on and groups of partygoers are huddled in groups talking, waiting and smoking as a behemoth sound system and makeshift bar are constructed against one wall. Next door, in a larger abandoned warehouse that was formerly an Office Outlet, an even bigger sound system is being built.

There’s a sense of anticipation as the warehouse fills up with mohawked punks, tracksuited squatters, crusties, rude boys, accountants, graphic designers, students, and grey-haired veteran techno heads. Everyone has come together looking for the same thing: a night of loud electronic music and dancing without the constraints of a regulated night club. No closing time, no dress code, no age limit, no searches on the door.

In recent years, unlicensed underground raves like these, which are run by decentralised networks of soundsystems and party crews, have flourished across the UK as legitimate night clubs have foundered in the face of tighter licensing requirements and a population of young people with less disposable income.

In September, the drum’n’bass producer Goldie, who was awarded an MBE for his services to music in 2016, singled out illegal parties such as these as a key pillar of the UK dance music scene amid struggling clubs and increasingly corporate festivals. “Culture ain’t a thing you can put in a weekend festival,” he said. “Rave culture is thriving, but on an underground level. People want to go to fucking raves, people want to go to illegal parties.”

I played an illegal rave in a forest last night in Blackburn those kids are brilliant,there love for the music is pure! #dropjaw 🔥⚡️🙏🏼

Bryan Gee, another British hall-of-fame drum’n’bass DJ, started playing reggae at south London squat parties in the early 80s, when he was 16. Today, he is in his 50s and still plays occasionally at unlicensed raves despite regularly DJing for crowds of over 7,000 at legitimate commercial venues. “I’ve turned up to unlicensed parties over the last couple of years and been shocked by the numbers,” he says. “Some club nights spend a ton of money on advertising and can’t pull in anything like the numbers these events get.”

“Since the 80s the illegal rave scene has always been active on some level,” says John (not his real name), a member of a prolific London-based free party crew. “It’s no coincidence that the original boom in acid house free parties took place after a decade of Tory government headed by Margaret Thatcher. It’s still here now and the current political climate is one reason why it’s healthier than it’s been for a long time.”

The last couple of years have seen scores of unlicensed events across the country, from 5,000-strong mega-raves in Bristol warehouses, to three-day breakcore soundclashes on south coast beaches, to intimate psytrance parties in the woodlands of Lancashire, and multi-rig “teknivals” on Scottish wind farms. Like John, many of those involved in the free party scene believe that these events are becoming more important than ever amid the widening social divides, ongoing Tory austerity and creeping gentrification.

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The free party veteran and acid techno innovator Chris Liberator says that unlicensed raves are a way for people to take back control of their local areas, even if it is only for one night. “We are culturally in a place where normal people can’t control their environment at all,” he says. “I’ve seen the best pubs in my area turned into Starbucks – homogenous, big corporate high streets all with the same shops. There’s no space for people to live – let alone to throw events and have some fun on their own terms. There is very little cultural representation for anyone apart from the mainstream, and even the mainstream clubs are struggling to stay open.”

Police, though, maintain that these events pose “a significant risk to public order and public safety”, in the words of Metropolitan police service commander Dave Musker, who is the national lead for unlicensed music events. He describes them as “illegal, dangerous gatherings that encourage antisocial behaviour and are linked with serious criminal activity” and adds that organisers are changing the “structure” of their parties to “counter police tactics” (understandably, he refuses to detail these tactics on either side).

By 3am, hundreds of people have filled the dimly-lit warehouse. The giant sound system is thundering out a gut-shuddering set of bass-heavy jungle, and the walls are covered in an increasingly dense patchwork of graffiti tags. A heaving mass of ravers are thrashing and embracing on the thickly carpeted dancefloor in front of the speaker stacks. Around them are signs that say “20% off 1000s of carpets”.

People are risking arrest to create a space where people can come together, no matter who they are, in a country where social divides are increasing

In a era of austerity, the unlicensed rave scene offers people a low-priced alternative to legal clubs. But that’s not the main reason people attend, according to Sophie Duniam, one half of underground electronic music duo My Bad Sister, which started out MCing at illegal events. “It offers people a place where they can come together as a community without prejudice and without intimidation,” she says. “People are risking arrest just to create a space where people can come together, no matter who they are, in a country where social divides are increasing. What the Tory government, and all governments, want to do is to isolate people so they can control them. When communities are united they are stronger and they can’t be pushed around.”

Duniam says that the ability of clubs and festivals to provide a similar space for free expression has been curtailed in recent years due to more stringent attitudes towards licence requirements. Drug-related incidents have led to the closure of several clubs in recent years, including The Arches, which used to be located in Glasgow and had its nightclub licence revoked in 2015, after the death of an underage clubber. In 2016, London superclub Fabric also saw its licence taken away for five months, following the death of two 18-year-olds after taking drugs on the premises. It reopened in 2017 with stricter security regulations. “It’s like 1920s prohibition in America,” Duniam says of the legal clubbing scene. “When we perform at Fabric all of the punters are searched and have their passports photocopied before they are allowed into the club – and you can get chucked out for having a vape.”

Many believe the rave scene is filling a void left after a decline in grassroots venues, defined by the mayor of London’s office as those that focus mainly on music, and play an important role in local communities or as a hub for musicians. In July, figures revealed there were only 100 grassroots music venues in the capital, 30% fewer than in 2007. It’s representative of a nationwide decline: a government select committee report published in 2019 warned that the “closure of music venues presents a significant and urgent challenge to the UK’s music industry and cultural vibrancy”.

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The Bristol-based DJ, producer and record label owner Mandidextrous, who started her career DJing at free parties in the early 2000s in Buckinghamshire, says “the innovation that happens in the underground is what fuels the commercial scene”. She also believes that the UK’s squat party scene offers a unique space for people to come together. “As a transgender woman, I’ve been two different people in the rave scene, and I have been openly welcomed throughout the whole thing. You get every single walk of life.”

It’s 10am on the Old Kent Road, New Year’s Day. A flood of new people enter the former Office Outlet warehouse from another unlicensed event, which took place in an office block on the South Bank and was shut down after police seized the sound system in the early hours. As the pale morning light streams through the skylights, hundreds of ravers are dancing to a hardtek remix of DJ Nehpets’ Bounce, Ride. A man with a wild head of grey hair is cutting intricate lines through the peripheries of a crowd of a pair of roller skates, swooping inches away from a teenager asleep on the floor wrapped up in a large yellow “Store Closing” sign.

Since the original boom in acid house parties in the late 80s, the unlicensed rave scene has been the target of media scare stories about drug overdoses and violence, but many of those who regularly attend say they feel safer than when they attend legal club nights. “Parties take place without a problem every weekend,” says Duniam, comparing them with licensed events where “people are kicked out at four in the morning, or earlier if they have done something to piss off the security. If you are a teenage girl and you haven’t got money for a cab, and the trains don’t start running until six or seven in the morning, being thrown out can leave you in a very vulnerable position. This would never happen at most illegal raves where, because no one is getting paid to look after anyone, everyone is looking out for each other as a community.”

The police claim this utopian vision is false. In 2017, two people were shot when gunmen wearing masks let off semi-automatic weapons at an illegal party in Leyton, and over the course of 2014 two teenage boys died after taking drugs at separate unlicensed raves in London. The Met’s Dave Musker says: “The obvious public risk comes from unsafe derelict buildings, overcrowding and youths being exposed to alcohol and illegal drugs in an environment which encourages excess. The revellers at these events are often unlikely to report crimes, including serious sexual assault, due to the culture of taking part in an illegal activity. Young people under the influence of alcohol or drugs are also at risk of being victims of crime or violence as they leave the venue.” He maintains the police’s priority is “to protect vulnerable people”.

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This is all a gross misrepresentation, according to Mandidextrous. “I’ve been attending illegal raves for more than 20 years, attending hundreds of illegal parties, and I have hardly seen any violence,” she says. “Any I have seen has actually come from the presence of police. If you go down any high street on a Saturday night you see bar brawls and fights on the streets; if you go to a rave, no one is fighting. Everyone is there to have a good time. Occasionally you get a few bad people – but nine times out of 10 they are marched out of the rave as soon as they do something wrong.”

The rave in Carpetright at least passes off without incident: by 9pm, the last of the equipment is being packed into vans while a handful of remaining partygoers sit around a small fire in the yard of the warehouse. Some are discussing the Tory campaign pledge to change the law on trespass and give police new powers to arrest and seize the property and vehicles of those “who set up unauthorised encampments”. The plans have been seen as an attempt to criminalise Gypsies and Travellers, and could also have ramifications for the free party scene. “Even if the laws get changed raves will carry on in some form,” says one person. “There are too many crews and too many sound systems.” As if to illustrate their point, another white van pulls up, and another crew get out to clean up the venue ahead of their own party the following weekend.

This content was originally published here.

[foxybluesky]

6 Perfect Substitutes for Rice Vinegar

6 Perfect Substitutes for Rice Vinegar Have you also been hooked in the guise of hesitating between using rice vinegar or not even use it at all? But unfortunately, it's not escapable. Because it atimes seems like there ain't any substitute for rice vinegar. Meanwhile, it's not. I've got you a number of alternatives that you can use in place of rice vinegar.

What is Rice Vinegar?

Rice vinegar is typically a type of vinegar processed from rice which has been fermented. As generally known, you'll detect that mild, slightly sugary taste when you take it. Rice is also a staple ingredient in several Asian delicacies without living out vegetables that are, sushi rice, slaws, and salad dressings. Although, if you’re sort of stranded or hooked out and then you don’t have any rice vinegar at hand, there are various simple alternatives you can use in place. (Substitute For Rice Wine Vinegar) Today, I'll explicitly analyze a number of the best alternatives for rice vinegar.

Substitutes For Rice Wine Vinegar

1. Apple Cider Vinegar

Apple cider vinegar is also a marvelous alternative in choosing substitutes for rice vinegar. ACV is another specialized form of vinegar, which was manufactured from apple cider that has gone through the process I recently called "fermentation". Read: Gonorrhea Causes, Symptoms, Home Remedy Staphylococcus Aureus: Quick Remedies. Symptoms And Cause Know The Causes And Home Remedies For Bruises How Late Can A Period Be Without Being Pregnant Apple Cider is also well known for its mild flavoury feature. ACV's mild taste and just a pinch of apple flavor, apple cider vinegar helps it to be a perfect substitute for just about any form of vinegar. (Substitute For Rice Wine Vinegar) As a matter of fact, you can simply utilize apple cider vinegar as the best alternative that will equally manifest an equivalent function a rice vinegar would do. For instance, it could be a replacement of rice vinegar in just about any recipe, such as sushi rice and even marinades. Even though, the flavor inherent is apparently fairly weak in apple cider vinegar. But still, note that it can become better performing if utilized for specific types of recipes, like pickling, for instance. So, the good news now is you may substitute a similar quantity of apple cider vinegar for rice vinegar when preparing your favorite recipes with apple cider vinegar. It happens that you'll need to consider the extra sumptuous taste for your rice vinegar to give. Due to this, you can add the same 1/4 teaspoon (1 gram) of sugar per tablespoon (15 ml) of apple cider vinegar. In short, Apple cider vinegar has a relatively mild flavour similar to rice vinegar. You can as well alternate apple cider vinegar for rice vinegar in a 1:1 ratio, and also add a 1/4 teaspoon (1 gram) of sugar per tablespoon (15 ml) of vinegar to add a quantified sweetness. 2. Lemon or Lime Juice For Substitute For Rice Wine Vinegar

You wouldn't want to miss the extra wonders I personally had the first-hand experience with when I couldn't find rice wine vinegar at reach. Many times, you’d use rice wine vinegar to add a bit of zing to certain recipes like for instance, salad dressings, slaws or sauces. Apart from that, you can also swap it out for a little bit of lemon or lime juice. (Substitute For Rice Vinegar) You know why? Lemons and limes are both highly acidic. They can easily imitate the acidity nature of rice wine vinegar in most recipes. As a matter of fact, as much as you can use lemon or lime juice in any of your recipes that demands the urgent attention of rice vinegar, note that lemon or lime juice will change the flavor of the final product /you're processing. In fact, it may leave it with a distinct citrus taste. In case you want to add extra acidity to your recipe, substitute double of the amount of lemon or lime juice for rice vinegar. In short, lemon or lime juice has the capacity to add that acidity and flavor touch to sauces, slaws, and dressings. You can, however, swap them for rice wine vinegar in your recipes in just a ratio of 2:1. Then, you have to note that these citrus juices will more or less add a unique flavor that for me appeared awesome. 3. White Wine Vinegar For Substitute For Rice Vinegar Have you ever come across anything "white wine" anywhere before? It's a perfect substitute for rice vinegar, in case you desire an alternative. White wine vinegar is processed through fermenting a specified quantity of white wine. This fermentation process influences it into a component of vinegar which is factually a wonderful alternative to the conventional rice vinegar. White Wine Vinegar typically has a mild, slightly acidic taste that qualifies it to be a perfect alternative and even make it an excellent addition to salad ingredients during preparation. In fact, White wine vinegar as well shares a relative flavour component with rice vinegar. As a result of this, you can with no stress switch it into most recipes in a squeeze. By the way, due to the fact that white wine vinegar is not quite as delicious as rice vinegar, you may choose to add a pinch of sugar to help match the flavor. Then, you may actually substitute white wine vinegar for rice vinegar. For example, you can divide it into a ratio of 1:1. You might find it needed to add only a bit flavor of sweetness. When such need arises, kindly add 1/4 teaspoon (1 gram) of sugar for each tablespoon (15 ml) of the white wine vinegar. In short, White wine vinegar possesses a distinct flavour like that of an acidic taste. Then, it's slightly less sweet than rice vinegar. You can use an equivalent quantity of white wine vinegar now, to replace rice vinegar as I've mentioned. Just add 1/4 teaspoon (1 gram) of sugar for each of the tablespoons (15 ml) of white wine vinegar. And boom, you have your perfect substitute for rice vinegar. 4. Champagne Vinegar As Substitute For Rice Wine Vinegar

Champagne vinegar is another substitute for rice vinegar. Typically, it's made through fermenting champagne to produce vinegar with just a light and delicate flavor. Due to the fact that it has a different taste, it still is used in the replacement of rice vinegar in any recipe. Then, it gives the room for a subtle flavor that won’t subdue the final product. Then it makes an especially delicious inclusion into seafood dishes, dipping sauces, marinades, and dressings. Read, When You Should Stop Taking Coffee How To Get Rid Of Stretch Marks Back, Butt or Venus Dimples Therefore, times would come whereby you'd run out of rice wine vinegar for your favorite recipes. Kindly attempt to replace it with champagne vinegar using a ratio of 1:1. To cap it all again, champagne vinegar has a mild taste and can be used to substitute for rice vinegar in almost any recipe. Hence, kindly substitute it into your recipes using a ratio of 1:1. 5. Seasoned Rice Vinegar Also,  this seasoned rice vinegar is processed by adding sugar and salt to regular rice vinegar. When you make a few simple adjustments to any of your recipes, you may easily alternate seasoned rice vinegar for regular rice vinegar in any of your favorite recipes. Meanwhile, this works really effectively in recipes that demand additional salt or sugar. Seasoned rice vinegar can as well be used for other recipes, but the taste of the final product will apparently be affected. (Substitute For Rice Wine Vinegar) Hence, anytime you discover you can't reach your targeted rice vinegar, just alternate it with the seasoned one. In other words, simply substitute an equivalent quantity of seasoned rice vinegar instead. When you're set to use it, for each 3/4 cup (177 ml) of seasoned vinegar you use, make sure you remove 4 tablespoons (50 grams) of sugar and 2 teaspoons (12 grams) of salt away from the real recipe to correspond with the flavor. Read: How To Get Long Thick Hair In a Week How Long Does NyQuil Last Anabolic Fasting To crown it all, alternatively use an equal amount of seasoned rice vinegar for the regular rice vinegar. Though, you have to remove 4 tablespoons (50 grams) of sugar plus 2 teaspoons (12 grams) of salt away from the real recipe. 6. Sherry Vinegar

Last but not least is the sherry vinegar that works wonders too. It's actually a type of wine vinegar made from sherry which has a distinct flavor often known as "rich", "nutty" and slightly "sweet". In case you don’t have any rice vinegar available, sherry vinegar makes a cool substitute as it works very well in a replacement of rice vinegar for sauces, vinaigrettes, and marinades. It can also be used to pickle vegetables or add a pop of flavor to your main course. (Substitute For Rice Vinegar) Check Out: How To Fix Cracked Heels Permanently Slums Test Hips Widening Food Stuck In Wisdom Tooth Hole How To Get Bigger Boobs Without Surgery How To Get Thicker Thighs And Hips In A Week In short, sherry vinegar is processed by using sherry. It has a dedicated flavour profile and acidity relative to rice vinegar. Alternate it, using a ratio of 1:1 in any recipe that demands that you use rice vinegar.

Conclusion

As we have seen this, it brings us to a veritable conclusion that rice vinegar is a necessity in a wide delicacy of the dish. We've covered the lemon/lime, seasoned rice vinegar, apple cider vinegar, champagne vinegar, and white wine vinegar as credible alternatives to rice wine vinegar. And the wonderful thing is you might run out of it with possibly no chance of getting it as soon as possible. The above alternatives are the perfect choices to choose from. Kindly share! Read the full article

[terraclae]

An introduction to court Paramo

In which I try to kick off my lore in parts. Note, all dragons in this are in semi-humanoid forms. 

@cityofinoue since you wanted to be tagged! 

Dark, light, grey, repeat.

‘Yo, unless you want to become a popsicle, are you coming or not?’

‘The audience is today?’ Arodan shifted to face the imperial who stood by the gate of his cell all too slowly. He pulled his feet out of the blanket he was wrapped in at an even slower pace and he could see the guard grow a little agitated. ‘I'm not really dressed for the occasion.’ His gaze narrowed. ‘Atlas, was it, right?’

‘You're a prisoner and I'm just a guard, also yes, that's me.’ Atlas said, shrugging idly. He moved to unlock the cell door. He seemed to have something tucked under his arm that he held out to Arodan as soon as he stepped into the cold and small cell. ‘Three blankets ain't no way to present yourself to a king, so put this on.’

Arodan briefly eyed the garment before him. It seemed to be a black coat with a very oversized rim of fur. ‘... Okay then.’ He gingerly took the coat and as soon as he slipped it on he tiptoed to the corner where he had stacked all his belongings that hadn't been damaged. ‘Say, this king, what is he like?’

‘Well, he threw you into jail immediately so I don't know whether that says something about him or you.’ Atlas jested. ‘In all seriousness, in general you shouldn't  try to act like a complete idiot. S’ good business practice.’ He grew a little impatient with Arodan taking as much time as he did to grab his belongings. ‘I don't know if he's stressed though, it's been a while since I've been stationed here. Are you coming along already or no?’

‘Yes, yes, give me a moment.’ Arodan grunted, finally gathering everything together in a big canvas bag. ‘Are you people always so impatient?’

‘Are outsiders always so rude?’ Atlas asked, one eyebrow raised. That shut up Arodan for the moment and he pulled him along gently. ‘Let's go, we haven't got all day.’

Arodan followed without anymore grumbling and took the time to study his surroundings as he followed Atlas. The halls of what had to be the castle he assumed, were rather high rising. The second thing he noticed was a staggering lack of windows in its stone foundation and he wondered if this was to keep people from coming in or escaping or if there was a different reason. He got his answer when they headed into what seemed to be the entry hall of the palace and by the massive steel door and the rock formations that were left jutting out of the floor that this wasn't as much a castle as much as it was an underground bunker. ‘Cheerful place.’

‘It gets better once you reach the main hall. That room’s full of stuff.’ Atlas said. ‘Right now this place functions as it should.’

‘I can imagine.’ It most certainly looked like a stronghold on the inside. He couldn't think of what should be kept out however, but Arodan decided to push the thought to the back of his mind. ‘Say, do tell, what is a light dragon like yourself doing pushing prisoners around around these parts?’

‘My employment elsewhere came to a halt.’ Atlas turned and flashed a grin at Arodan. ‘This place is like my home. Actual place of birth? Now there it sucks.’

‘And what kind of job was your former employment exactly?’ They turned a corner and the main hall came in sight. Arodan glanced over a little hallway off to the side and honed his eyes in on what seemed to be a stairwell.

‘Bodyguard.’ Atlas answered. ‘For a tree.’ He entered the hall first with Arodan following him all too silently. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on him, starting with turning around to face him. For a moment Arodan seemed to be in awe with the layout. ‘We’re here.’

The main hall was decorated in a more comforting fashion, as Atlas had said. The original structure underneath was a generally uniform and straight structure of stone carved into rectangular and sharp shapes, a few pillars rising by the sides of the room. The walls were lined with paintings and tapestries, the biggest banner with the Court’s emblem situated right behind the throne. Among the floor lay a variety of carpets that didn't always match the interior but helped make the room feel more cushiony. The hall didn't look like it was being used for its intended purpose.

He turned back to the hall, readying his entire royal greeting, only to be met by an empty throne and one of the scouts next to it in thought with the arrangement of a stack of reports. ‘Caer?’ Atlas asked uncertainly. ‘Where's king Balam?’ He only briefly wondered why he wouldn't have noticed the king not being present earlier, then remembered that wondrously everything manages to miss the mountain that the man was.

‘Running late. Said there was-’ She held up her fingers to make quotation marks. ‘-Business he had to attend to.’

Atlas opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but only a strangled ‘I see,’ left him. Awkwardly he glanced off to the side. ‘This is um… Where did he go Caer?’

‘Library.’

‘Oh, thank the Icewarden.’ Atlas said in a very quick breath. Unless he was wrong about the whole library being a sacred place where you generally didn't perform mischief. ‘Should we wait?’

‘Probably. I want him to see these reports too, they're pretty urgent.’ Caer said. She threw a glance around Atlas. ‘Who's the running cotton ball?’

‘Are you kidding me?!’ Atlas immediately whipped around and initiated pursuit. He could see Arodan disappear around the corner in a hall further up and he decided to add just a little more speed, the walls becoming just another way to keep up with the escapee.

Arodan’s focus mostly lay in finding the quickest way out and if you were under the ground then the only way to go was up. If a stairwell might lead him there, then he would take it. If no, then it was nice knowing the talking book he held onto tightly. If he was lucky then he might not run into any guards on his way up and he could handle the average manservant. He reached the top of the stairwell and frantically glanced around what other way he could go.

‘You're going the wrong way if you want to get out of here.’

Arodan near fell down the stairs again. ‘Who's there?!’ He reeled around and really didn't afford stopping to ask who decided to give him advice. ‘I'm-’

‘I'm really hard to miss.’ Arodan was lifted by his tail faster than he could respond to and held in the air. ‘Also I think a better bet would have been the hall one floor down and to the left.’

‘Let me go, that- Ow!!’

On that moment Atlas finally reached the top of the stairs, eyes aglow with fury. In the dark of the stairwell he looked more intimidating than he already was. Again he opened his mouth in telltale fashion to yell at Arodan, but closed it just as quickly. ‘... My liege.’

‘Atlas.’ Balam said in a deep booming voice, swinging Arodan around a little. ‘I take this is the prisoner who is to have an audience with me?’

‘Yes, my lord. He tried to escape.’ Atlas eyed Arodan. ‘I can escort him back to-’

‘No, don't, this is kind of amusing.’ Balam said. There was a hint of humor in his voice as he spoke and to anyone with better night vision it could be seen he was smiling. ‘So, tell me son, are you a spy or an assassin? You wouldn't exactly be the first-.’ He whipped Arodan upwards and caught him by his waist. ‘Or the last.’

‘I'm neither.’ How he was staying anything but panicked was a mystery to himself, but Arodan decided to ride his eery calmness out for the moment. He was pretty certain Balam had at least half a meter height advantage on him and the man was built like a fortress himself. What scared him most was that despite the smile Balam’s eyes barely hid an anger of his own. ‘I fell off a ship, and apparently washed up here.’ How could he best explain his case? ‘I don't mean any harm, I'm not exactly a fighter.’

‘You have the hands and face of one.’ Balam said. Arodan knew by his look he wasn't focusing on his face but his eyepatch in particular. ‘Although the coat takes the edge off.’ Balam cocked his head. ‘I know a liar when I see one.’

Something snapped in Arodan at that moment. ‘With all due respect sir…’ Atlas gasped a little besides Arodan. ‘I'm generally a stalwart pacifist and we can't all comfortably sit in a bunker away from the shade-ridden monsters.’ He did not break eye contact with Balam as he spoke. ‘I've been through a lot and falling through a hole in a ship’s hull into icy waters was at that point the least of my troubles. Maybe it would be better if I was what you think I am, then this would be simple, but sadly, I'm not.’ He grimaced. ‘Also, please put me down. We're continuing this conversation peacefully or not at all.’

Balam remained quiet for a moment, then burst out laughing. His voice deeply boomed down the stairwell and one could easily guess the other people present in the castle took note of the sound. Arodan himself shrank a little at the outburst and held onto Balam's broad arm with one hand, as he feared he might be dropped. ‘I'm guessing that got through to you?’ He dared to ask.

‘Oh, that got through to me alright.’ Balam said with a big grin. He set Arodan down and leant with one arm against the wall besides him. ‘I'm not letting you out quite yet however.’ He threw a glance with Atlas. ‘Tell me then, who was on that ship that threw you off and is your presence here a potential danger to this stronghold?’

‘Someone named Altair. And I wouldn't be able to tell you because I don't know. I don't know what he wanted from me and if he wants something from me now.’ He responded. ‘Now you explain me something... What is it that you are so scared of that your first instinct to seeing a shipwrecked person like myself is to throw them in your frigid jail?’

‘You just got here and you're already trying to stick your nose into business you shouldn't, spectacular.’ Balam remarked, another giggle escaping him. ‘Let's just say that there are forces afoot among dragons that want this place as a potential stronghold themselves.’ He righted himself. ‘That is not all but those secrets I'd prefer to stay within the depths of this place.’

‘Well, that's fair.’ He crossed his arms and shrugged. Arodan’s feet were starting to get fairly cold, and he had no one to blame but himself for being unfamiliar with the cold despite his flight. ‘But I'm sharing as much secrets as you are willing to share.’

‘That's not how this works.’ Both Balam and Arodan turned to Atlas who had spoken. He turned to Arodan. ‘You fundamentally misunderstand how things work around here which, fair enough, you've never been here, is a bit of a problem.’ He stepped closer. ‘It'd do you well to behave and show a little respect.’

‘I'll be nice if others extend the same sentiment. I've made up my mind about just giving my kindness blindly.’ Arodan tapped his foot against the floor, both out of impatience and the fact it had fallen asleep. ‘Once I was among royals myself too, if we’re speaking about that. So I'd say it gives me a pretty good reason to not just bend the knee.’

Atlas shot Balam a look who stood fidgeting in the half shadow of the stairwell, still with a smile on his face. Knowing by his expression he was conjuring up a plan and Atlas wasn't certain whether he should be concerned for Balam or for Arodan. ‘Well then, what do you plan to do here?’

‘Well, I imagine you'd rather keep me in my cell, but if you'll allow me to write a letter to a relative, then I'll be out of your hair.’ He shrugged all too casually. Arodan turned back to Balam. ‘Or you'll give me trial. Either way I have nothing to lose.’

‘Lyyyyiiiing.’ Echoed down the hallway as seeming response to him.

Arodan reeled towards the direction the sound came from. ‘What was that?’

‘Another secret. A witch.’ Balam answered, his smile growing wider. ‘Tell me though… Arodan. Do you want to stay in the cell and freeze over or do you perhaps want to make yourself useful?’ He tipped Arodan's head up. ‘You have permission to write a letter but I can't imagine you'll get a response in a day.’

True, Arodan thought. He shook himself out of Balam's hold with an inaudible hiss. ‘Then what would you have me do in the meantime?’

‘Depends, what are you good at?’ The skydancer before him hesitated. ‘If you can't think of anything, the witch always needs new help.’

Arodan threw a brief glance down the hall and felt a shiver run down his spine. ‘I used to make jewelry. Before that, I accompanied patrol groups in my home. And as I grew up I've had a penchant for magic.’

Atlas whistled a drawn out note at that. ‘Nice. We don't need jewelers around here but that's a skill easily used to do other things.’ He smiled. ‘We do need metalworkers.’

‘No, not that.’ Balam shook his head. One of his hands rose to stroke his chin. ‘Something tells me you like books and know how to take care of them.’

‘Maybe.’ Arodan clutched the bag with his belongings tighter to himself. ‘What would you need a hypothetical librarian for? Isn't there anyone else in this…’ He glanced up and down Balam. ‘... Are you an actual king or do you just fancy the title?’

‘Just because you can't open a window to see the city around you doesn't mean it doesn't exist.’ Balam's eyebrows rose as he said this. ‘We, the of the city of Paramo, dwell underground,’ he said and quickly added ‘Although because someone-’ he near roared this down the hall, ‘Is claustrophobic…’ He lowered his voice again and cackling could be heard from down the hallway. ‘We have viewing decks at the very edge of the palace. With special keys one can go outside and look out over the ocean.’ He straightened his beard a little, obviously embarrassed at his slip of composure. ‘The basis is that I have a library chock full of incredibly valuable knowledge that after the passing of the last librarian was left without a supervisor. We need someone to keep an eye until we find someone who wants to take over the position fulltime.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Arodan hummed. He glanced between Atlas and Balam momentarily and lowered his eye immediately to his book. It stuck out of his bag halfway and just by looking at it it seemed as if it could speak.

Was he about to take up the stuffy mantle of librarian for a magical book?

‘Fine, I'll take the job.’ Yes. Yes he was. ‘But-’ He smothered Balam's brimming enthusiasm by just holding up his hand. ‘Tell me, who is this enemy of yours?’

‘Have you ever heard of the city of Lux Laterna?’ Balam said, bending down so he was at Arodan’s height. Arodan shook his head. ‘I can imagine so. It has been a hidden city until recently, but over a short time it's grown incredibly powerful. So much in fact it seems their current ruler has his mind set on vast expansion.’ He drew an invisible shape in the air with his index finger. ‘Apparently it is our turn to fall now, because of our location, and what is hidden in the depths of these lands.’

‘Yes, about that, my liege…’ All three turned to the new presence in the stairwell. ‘If you aren't coming down to see these reports I'll bring them to you myself.’ Caer said, holding up a stack of papers. ‘I didn't sort this out for you to ignore it.’

While Arodan made a self explanatory gesture towards Balam as he met Atlas’ eye. Balam remained more focused on Caer’s report. He carefully took it from her hands and started to leaf through it. He paused on the very last report which summed up everything spoken of once more.

He inhaled deeply, exhaled far too long, and then chose to remain quiet, looking as if he was momentarily out of potential velvety quips and smooth talk. Arodan this time shot Caer a questioning look.

‘Is there nothing else we can do?’ Balam started, vaguely gesturing at the reports in his hands. No smile to be seen, and he looked utterly defeated and tired for a brief moment. ‘And how do we know they want to help us, people like the Tempest Brigade?’

‘Because it's our best shot, my liege.’ Caer hissed, slamming her hand down on the files. ‘To quote our guest, prisoner, whatever, we can't all sit comfortably and wait for the enemy to show up at the walls.’ She looked up at Arodan, and lowered her voice as soon as she turned back to Balam. ‘Speaking of… I think it's better to continue this conversation elsewhere and with strategists.’

‘Agreed.’ Balam didn't look bad and immediately started his descent down the stairs. ‘Atlas, west wing. I will speak to you later.’

‘Yes sir.’ Atlas casually said, watching Balam and Caer disappear out of sight. He waited quietly until both couldn't be heard anymore but in the far distance, and then turned to Arodan. ‘Well, I'm escorting you to your new room then since that was your audience.’ he started to head down the stairs. ‘Follow me.’

‘Is he always like that?’ Arodan asked.

‘Like what?’

‘Well…’ Maybe the show of serious reflection threw Arodan off but he held on to his point nonetheless. ‘... This seemingly carefree?’

‘No, of course not.’ Atlas narrowed his eyes. ‘That just now was a good show of what he's like and I'm sure you noticed too.’ They headed into the west wing of the castle on the third floor down. ‘He tries to generally stay optimistic for the people here, because people would rather have a king that seems happy to rule over one that looks like he'd rather be sitting on a beach sipping homemade brews elsewhere.’

‘Implying he doesn't like ruling Paramo?’

Atlas paused, and even seemed a little offended at the mere thought. ‘No. That would have been the former king.’ Atlas held up his hand to stop Arodan from asking any further. ‘Before you ask, he died.’

That quietened Arodan. He focused back on the scenery again. The west wing of the castle seemed to grow more welcoming in the same fashion as the Main Hall, with many tapestries and carpets lining the wall and floors. Here and there chests were bunched up in a corner with carpets and other trinkets. They reached a door at the end of the hallway and Atlas searched his pockets for keys. ‘Someone else will come fetch you tomorrow to show you around, for now I advise you to get some sleep because I can't imagine you got that back in the cell.’

‘Yes.’ Arodan said, a little too quietly perhaps. ‘... How did the old king die?’

‘Killed.’ Atlas answered bluntly, the door opening with a click. He didn't look like he wanted to continue that part of the conversation. ‘Also… Don't just go wandering aimlessly around the castle. Not that there's any danger but it's pretty easy to get lost in here and also you wouldn't want the witch to rope you into doing menial little tasks for her.’  He grinned. ‘You'll meet her sometime too.’

‘Perhaps.’ He immediately made a mental note to actively avoid her. ‘To who should I go if I want to send a letter?’

‘Well, if you write it tonight I'll drop by and drop it off at our postmaster.’ He pocketed his hands. ‘I think you'll like him too.’

Arodan started searching his bag for his paper, ink and quill. ‘How so?’

‘Because he's a dork like you.’ Atlas pat Arodan's shoulder and sauntered off. ‘Give me a call if you need anything!’

‘Thanks jerk.’ Arodan spat. He entered the room with a sour grimace that lightened a little at being met by warmth. It was a welcome change as opposed to the earlier days, and like the dork he was called he stood basking in the ambiance for a moment. When he regained himself he pulled his journal out of his bag and flipped it open.

‘So, how did it go?’ Was written in gold on a new black page. Arodan put the book down on the desk, sat down, and only wrote down ‘I have to write a letter first,’ in white lettering with a small chunk of chalk. He immediately directed his focus to the empty paper laid out before him, dipped his quill, and started to write. Whatever this might hold, he was curious about it.

[drippeddaily]

Album of the Year #11: Kendrick Lamar - DAMN.

Album of the Year #11: Kendrick Lamar - DAMN.

Artist: Kendrick Lamar

Album: DAMN.

Listen:

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Background by /u/King_CornShucker

As the dust settled following one of the most important hip-hop releases in recent years (2015’s To Pimp A Butterfly), all eyes were on Kendrick Lamar. This jazz and funk infused masterwork was both socio politically fierce and introspectively vulnerable, typifying Kendrick’s (familiarly) conflicting nature. The album’s strength spilled into the subsequent year’s untitled, unmastered., an EP of compiled demos originating during the recording sessions of TPAB. Together, these works established what Lamar had been working on perfecting since 2011’s Section.80. and 2012’s good kid, m.A.A.d city: his ability to craft a lyrically impressive body of work dense with storytelling and concepts begging for repeat-listens.

But as Kendrick said in his late-2016 interview with Rick Rubin, “It will always have some type of DNA in my music. But me as a person and just knowing who I am, I grow, I’m like a chameleon.” And nobody knew what to expect, especially after producer Syk Sense called the beats in consideration “some of the hardest shit I’ve heard.” He also described the sounds saying, “It’s not like the jazzy tape you would think, it’s like...fucking Memphis. It’s LA, it’s Memphis.” In an interview with The New York Times, Kendrick prefaced the topics he was exploring by saying, “We’re in a time where we exclude one major component out of this whole thing called life: God.”

But all the guessing was suddenly interrupted by the March release of “The Heart Part 4”, an exciting single concluding with the line, “Y’all got ‘til April the 7th to get y’all shit together”. The day came and Kendrick Lamar’s fourth studio album was available for preorder. It was soon announced to be DAMN., a fourteen-track album featuring Rihanna, Zacari, and U2, as well as a talented line-up of producers such as Mike WiLL Made-It, The Alchemist, and 9th Wonder.

Review by /u/King_CornShucker

The album begins(?) with “BLOOD.”, an eerie introduction where Kendrick tells a story over a mellow instrumental produced by Bēkon and Top Dawg. Bēkon’s bone-chilling vocals kick off the song, offering what seemingly comes to be the album’s thesis,

Is it wickedness? Is it weakness? You decide. Are we gonna live or die?

These lines carry a listener-hooking sense of mystery that leads into the story. To summarize, Kendrick is taking a walk when he encounters a frustrated blind woman who appears to be looking for something. Soon, he decides to help but is then killed by the woman as a result. This macabre climax is abruptly concluded by a gunshot. While “BLOOD.” is basically a bare-bones introductory skit, I believe it shows Kendrick’s ability to craft artistic brilliance beyond just rapping. A clip of FOX News reporters criticizing the lyrical content of Kendrick’s “Alright” epically transitions into “DNA.”, which is literally the hardest song I’ve ever heard. Kendrick begins by proudly listing both the good and bad in his history and heritage that makes him who he is. The entire first verse is an aggressive yet honest analysis of his personality and beliefs (“And I’m gon’ shine like I’m supposed to, antisocial extrovert”), as well as his current accomplishments (“At 29, I’ve done so well, hit cartwheel in my estate”). An intense, bass-heavy beat crafted by Mike WiLL Made-It carries on for the first verse until it halts into the bridge, featuring a clip of Geraldo Rivera condemning hip-hop’s effects on African-Americans. In response to the FOX News comments sampled here and previously on “BLOOD.” regarding “Alright”, Kendrick said this:

How can you take a song that’s about hope and turn it into hatred? The overall message is ‘we’re gonna be alright.’ It’s not the message of ‘I wanna kill people.’

This sample paired with Kendrick’s repeating of the words, “I got loyalty, got royalty inside my DNA”, bring on an incredibly aggressive and in-your-face beat switch. Kendrick’s second verse is urgent and even angrier than his first. The passionate delivery of these apocalyptic lyrics (“Tell me when destruction gonna be my fate”, “Look up in the sky, 10 is on the way, sentence on the way, killings on the way”) gives the song the feeling of a grand finale, even though it’s basically the first song. The last line of the song is “Sex, money, murder-our DNA”, saying that these sins are in our blood. It is a very intentional moment, as it helps introduce the album's biblical theme of sin, and the punishments we face because of it. Mike WiLL Made-It reportedly created the second part of the instrumental after Kendrick rapped the second verse a capella. He stated:

Just imagine him a cappella rapping the second half of “DNA.” and I had to build a beat around that. I didn’t want the beat to just sound like a regular boom-clap, boom-clap. I wanted that shit to sound just as crazy. I wanted it to sound like he’s battling the beat.

Which he clearly accomplished. Not only one of the album’s highlights, “DNA.” is in my opinion one of the best songs of Kendrick’s discography.

The next song is “YAH.”, and the first thing we hear is the album’s debut appearance of legendary DJ and rapper Kid Capri. His inclusion gives off a classic mixtape vibe, calling to mind older eras of hip-hop.

New shit, new Kung Fu Kenny

Introduced earlier on Mike WiLL’s track, “Perfect Pint”, Kung Fu Kenny is a new nickname mentioned numerous times on DAMN. whose motif is seen in videos for the album as well as other promotion and concerts. It is inspired by Don Cheadle’s character from the 2001 film, Rush Hour 2. The most noticeable thing on “YAH.” is the sudden and drastic tone change. In contrast to the previous track’s intensity and unwavering confidence, Kendrick sounds forlorn and paranoid. Kendrick is rapping slowly and melodically over strange and smooth production by Sounwave, DJ Dahi, and Top Dawg.

Buzzin’, radars is buzzin’, yah yah, yah yah, yah yah, yah yah, yah yah

This hypnotizing chorus is a bit unclear in meaning, but it seems to be about his awareness. His “radars” are detecting who is untrustworthy, which connects to the paranoid lyrics (“I got so many theories and suspicions”, “My girl told me don’t let these hoes get in my head”). “Yah” may be in reference to Yahweh, the Hebrew name of God used in the bible. In verse two he raps about struggling with temptation even though he believes God is real and curses those who are unfaithful. The repetition in the chorus could be a calling out to God for help or forgiveness. <My cousin called, my cousin Carl Duckworth said know my worth, and Deuteronomy say that we all been cursed

This is the first we hear about Deuteronomy, a book of the Bible commonly referred to by Hebrew Israelites, people of colour who believe the Israelites are their historic ancestors. Kendrick’s cousin subscribes to this belief, and we later hear him on “FEAR.” educating Kendrick on the Book of Deuteronomy, detailing the curses that await the disobedient. This is a recurring and apparent theme of DAMN, from the album and song titles to the lyrical content.

Next up is “ELEMENT.”, which reverts back to a style more reminiscent of “DNA.”.

New Kung Fu Kenny! Ain’t nobody prayin’ for me! Y’all know what happens on Earth stays on Earth!

Kid Capri kicks off another track, with some strange lines that are very recognizable at this point. He had this to say when asked about them:

To tell the truth, I never asked Kendrick the meaning of it. I said what I said and I never asked him the meaning. He told me to say that part.

I think it’s meaning is simple, saying you can’t bring anything with you when you leave Earth, whether it’s materials or relationships. When the first line of Kendrick’s verse is, “I’m willin’ to die for this shit”, following multiple repetitions of “I don’t give a fuck”, the sentiment exudes a sense of risk-it-all confidence. While the lyrical content alone on this song isn’t as conceptual as most of the tracklist, it’s still a highlight. Kendrick takes shots at his rivals and boasts his skill, sounding smooth and precise while doing it. At the end of his final verse are these lines:

Last LP I tried to lift the black artists, but it’s a difference between black artists and wack artists

His last LP To Pimp A Butterfly focused on self-love and empowering the black community. There is a much different tone on this song, where he puts his competition in their place. When asked about this line, Kendrick had this to say:

A wack artist uses other people’s music for their approval. We’re talking about someone that is scared to make their own voice, chases somebody else’s success and their thing, but runs away from their own thing. That’s what keeps the game watered-down.

James Blake, Sounwave, and Ricci Riera produced this sharp and menacing instrumental that features numerous beat changes. It perfectly pairs with Kendrick’s style throughout the song, similar to how “DNA.” sounded like a back-and-forth between Kendrick and the beat.

Kid Capri and a slowed down version of the chorus take us into the next song, “FEEL.” Another stark contrast from the song before it, this track is Kendrick’s most stripped down and painfully honest since “u”. It’s a dive into the pessimistic emotions Kendrick’s feeling, performed like the mic is his therapist.

Ain’t nobody prayin’ for me

The song starts with a sad line that is heard throughout the album. Even with all of the critical and commercial accolades, Kendrick obviously has feelings of loneliness. He gives the world all his time and energy with his music, but in his position, people are still constantly asking for something. They aren’t even close enough to be real with him, let alone pray for him.

I feel like it ain’t no tomorrow, fuck the world, the world is ending, I’m done pretending, and fuck you if you get offended

If these lyrics are any indication, Kendrick is not lying when he says he has a chip on his shoulder. During both verses on “FEEL.”, Kendrick denounces the world, going so far as to condemn his family and friends. Like “ELEMENT.”’s lyrical content, what you hear is what you get, with not much interpreting needed. But that is only to it’s benefit.

I feel like this gotta be the feeling where Pac was, the feeling of an apocalypse happening but nothing is awkward

Tupac, one of Kendrick’s biggest influences and role models, has shared the same feelings of depression, frustration, and paranoia that are expressed in “FEEL.”. He even had predictions of disaster and bloodshed at the end of Kendrick’s last album, from an interview which Kendrick said had “answers for today’s time and age”. The beat on “FEEL.” was produced by Sounwave, and features bassist Thundercat who appears on “LUST.” as well. Sampling Loopmasters' royalty-free Organic Future Hip Hop sample pack, it is a relatively simple instrumental. However, it captures the mood Kendrick was in lyrically, and is a perfect platform for him to vent over.

“LOYALTY.” is next, a radio-friendly song featuring Rihanna. It is sequenced well in the tracklist, as it is a very light track between two of the most heavy. They rap about loyalty, a quality shown to be very important to Kendrick through his career. Not only does he make sure those he surrounds himself with are trustworthy, he has made himself a good example of the trait. He is still with his fiancee, Whitney Alford, a woman Kendrick’s been dating since high school.

Tell me who you loyal to, is it anybody you would lie for, anybody you would slide for, anybody you would die for? (That’s what God for)

Kendrick said this release would be about God, but also exhibits a sense of being done with religion earlier in the album. We hear him sneak a line nearing the end of “LOYALTY.” that reminds us of Kendrick’s loyalty to God. To quote 2016’s *untitled 01”:

I made *To Pimp A Butterfly for You, told me to use my vocals to save mankind for You, say I didn’t try for You, say I didn’t ride for You

The beat was made by Terrace Martin, Sounwave, DJ Dahi, and Top Dawg. Bruno Mars’s song “24K Magic” is the sample, which DJ Dahi decided to reverse, change key, and add a third harmony to. It feels uplifting while still sounding slightly eerie and fitting in with the recurring “reverse” theme. While “LOYALTY.” is, in my opinion, the least interesting song on DAMN., it still has a lot going for it and definitely does not warrant a skip.

Bēkon kicks off another song, “PRIDE.”, a hypnotically depressing highlight of the album.

Love’s gonna get you killed, but pride’s gonna be the death of you and you and me and you and you and you and me…

Kendrick raps in this song and throughout the album about his difficulties with putting trust and love in people. But as he’s said in the past:

When are we gon’ understand we are put on earth to love?

He believes in the importance of love, but recognizes people will take advantage of this and hurt you. This 20-second intro is saying it will harm you in the flesh to extend love, but the original sin of pride could lead to damnation and the death of the spirit. Another chillingly honest track, Kendrick goes through his and the world’s imperfections, as well as the pride that’s making Kendrick bitter and numb towards people. His vocals change pitch throughout the first verse, perhaps to capture the out-of-body numbness he’s describing. The chorus of “PRIDE.” appears to be an admittance of his lack of love and empathy for others. He is cold the to the world because of his ego. As he raps about in the second verse, pride isn’t allowing him to own up to his own mistakes, so he blames others. The idea of “a perfect world” is hypothesized, and at the end of the song, Kendrick raps:

See, in a perfect world I’ll choose faith over riches, I’ll choose work over bitches, I’ll make schools out of prison, I’ll take all the religions and put ‘em all in one service, just to tell ‘em we ain’t shit, but He’s been perfect, world”

A perfect world would be completely fabricated because people will always sin. Kendrick puts God as the focal point once again, saying He is only thing people should strive for, as God is free of sin. Steve Lacy of The Internet produced the beat for “PRIDE.” on his iPhone using GarageBand. Another example of questionable production choices that lead to a sound working perfectly for Kendrick’s performance and subject matter.

“HUMBLE.”, the lead single of DAMN., is the complete antithesis of the last song. The slow, cold sound of PRIDE is opposed by the loud, quick flow of HUMBLE, with the music video even including imagery of fire. The title of the track is an interesting choice, because the lyrical content of the verses is very braggadocious and prideful. When asked by Rolling Stone if the chorus of the song (which repeats the command, “be humble”) was directed at himself, Kendrick responded:

Definitely. That’s why I did a song like that, where I just don’t give a fuck, or I’m telling the listener, “You can’t fuck with me.” But ultimately, I’m looking in the mirror.

Even with a party-friendly banger like this one, Kendrick pays attention to detail. Thematically “HUMBLE.”’s lyrics fit in with the other tracks, but in terms of tone, are a wild and boastful deviation from the majority of DAMN.’s eeriness and pessimism. The instrumental, originally meant for Gucci Mane, was produced by Mike WiLL Made-It. It features a driving, menacing piano and trap drums. After recording the song, it was agreed that it would be released on Mike WiLL’s album, Ransom 2, but Kendrick was convinced by others to keep it. It’s a good thing they did, because “HUMBLE.” is still a memorable and recognizable moment on the album.

“LUST.”, the second song named after a deadly sin, comes next. It is an examination of of lust, and critique of those living for themselves and falling into a cycle of sin.

I need some water, something came over me, way too hot to simmer down, might as well overheat

The first line in the song shows the lustful feelings (or thirst) Kendrick has. But it also introduces the spiritual side of the song. Reminiscent of “Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst” from good kid, m.A.A.d city, Kendrick is using the need for water to symbolize man’s need for God. Verse 1 documents the daily routines of a man and woman and their vices. Kendrick’s delivery intentionally makes the events sound uninteresting and repetitive, in a “Groundhog Day”-esque cycle of trivial living. The second verse delves into an unexpected point of view. He criticizes those who were initially outraged about Trump’s inauguration for eventually accepting it and being silent. The bridge immediately after connects this to the theme of lust.

Lately, in James 4:4 says “Friend of the world is enemy of the Lord”

Kendrick quotes a bible verse to illustrate that accepting worldly ways and seeking worldly things is to reject God. The incredible instrumental was made by Toronto jazz and hip-hop trio BADBADNOTGOOD, Sounwave, and DJ Dahi. It’s smooth yet intense, and features a reverse drum sound similar to “Vibrate” by Andre 3000, a song with very similar subject matter.

“LOVE.” comes next, and is another contrast to the track before it. It is a relaxing and easygoing jam that is welcomed after the steamy and urgent nature of “LUST.” It features Zacari, a newcomer who was on both Ab-Soul’s and Isaiah Rashad’s latest albums. His vocals compliment the beat, making for one of the most enjoyable choruses or hooks on the album. The lyrical content is relatively simple, much like the other singer-assisted song on the album. It is Kendrick rapping melodically, most likely about his fiancee. The main producer was Teddy Walton with additional production credits to Greg Kurstin, Sounwave, and Top Dawg. Easy to digest and vibe to, “LOVE.” is a much-needed rest from the heavy substance in the tracks surrounding it.

After this comes “XXX.”, which features Irish rock legends U2 and production from DJ Dahi, Sounwave, Mike WiLL Made-It, and Top Dawg. One of the most captivating moments on DAMN., it is a three-parted rollercoaster of a song. Kendrick had this to say in an interview with Zane Lowe regarding the song.

It’s an idea of complete chaos and madness. Organized madness and controlled madness; us trying to control this madness.

It begins with Bēkon introducing one of the song’s topics: America. Then, Kendrick offers two analogies.

Throw a steak off the ark to a pool full of sharks, he’ll take it. Leave him in the wilderness with a sworn nemesis, he’ll make it.

Both are images of hunger and temptation, with the second line referencing the story in the Book of Matthew where Jesus, who had been fasting for forty days, is tempted by the devil. It is interesting to think what this imagery metaphorizes in the context of the song’s message of America’s controlled chaos and corruption. Kendrick then uses “Johnny” to personify youth in America that fall into temptation and end up in violence. This point of the song might be the most experimental on the whole album, with the beat cutting out in moments and old school hip-hop sound effects. The beat then explodes into the second part, which features sirens and heavy breathing to help visualize the rage and chaos present in Kendrick’s verse. It’s about a man whose only son was killed and calls Kendrick in drunken desperation for advice and closure. Kendrick, even though his “spirit do know better”, tells him that he would seek revenge. After the phone call, Kendrick attends a convention to talk about gun control. It is an admittance of hypocrisy, reminiscent of 2015’s “The Blacker the Berry”. In my opinion, the storytelling on this verse is more vivid and powerful than any Kendrick’s ever done. The last part of the song is relaxing and takes a broader view of the topic with an analysis of America. The beat has live sounding instruments and sounds of birds in the distance. Bono sings a bit of an esoteric chorus that concludes the track. This song is absolutely a highlight and one of Kendrick’s bests.

Speaking of highlights, “FEAR.” comes next. It begins and ends with the phone call Kendrick referred to in “YAH.”. His cousin Carl Duckworth speaks to him of his and other Hebrew Israelites beliefs, stemming from Deuteronomy 28. People of this belief commonly use this passage to explain why minorities like Africans, Latinos, and Native Americans have dealt with such hardships like slavery, poverty and disease. The inclusion of this is interesting as Kendrick doesn’t explicitly say he subscribes to this belief. I think the general message of God cursing us for our lack of faith is one Kendrick believes in, which is why it is such a central theme on the album. The concept of the song is simple, but the execution is incredible. Each of three verses has Kendrick taking the perspective of himself dealing with fear at ages of 7, 17, and then 27. At the age of 7, Kendrick felt fear from his mother’s severe threatenings. At 17, his fear was death, as the verse follows Kendrick going over hypothetical scenarios where he dies. Finally, at 27 (which happens to be the year he released To Pimp A Butterfly) his biggest fears were losing his wealth, being judged, and being forgotten. Verse 4 very neatly wraps everything up, and could have easily been the last verse on the album. He alludes to many of the song titles on the album, and summarizes his emotions as of late. The instrumental crafted by The Alchemist is, ironically; considering the song’s name, the most chill on the album. A faster version of it was momentarily present on “The Heart Part 4”. The bassline and background vocals brilliantly compliment the emotions in Kendrick’s storytelling, making for one of the best tracks on the album.

“GOD.”, which is in my opinion the strangest and most unexpected song on the album, comes next. It features a pretty simple beat by Ricc Riera, Sounwave, DJ Dahi, Cardo, Bēkon, and Top Dawg. On surface level, the song is basically a reminiscent, confident Kendrick going through his accomplishments. It has a spiritual tone of self-love and being above worldly things. But it’s eerie undertone mixed with the repeated line, “This what God feel like!” gives off a story of Lucifer vibe, which would connect to the theme of sin and pride found throughout the album. Regardless, “GOD.” is a very interesting song and one that has grown on me especially.

Concluding the album at track 14 is “DUCKWORTH.”, which is the last name of Kendrick Lamar. Originally titled, “Life is Like a Box of Chicken”, it plays as a sort of climax to the album. It’s top notch storytelling over soulful, ever-switching production of 9th Wonder. It begins with Bēkon just like “BLOOD.” did, which could play into the famous (or infamous) “reverse theory”. This theory suggesting the album has a different story (or “feel” as Kendrick said) when the tracklist is reversed lead to the recent release of *DAMN. COLLECTOR’S EDITION.”, which features, well, a reversed tracklist. The sample, Ted Taylor’s “Be Ever Wonderful”, takes us into the first verse. To summarize the story, Anthony, AKA Top Dawg, planned to rob a KFC. “Ducky”, who is Kendrick’s father, worked at this KFC and decided to give Anthony free chicken and extra biscuits. This decision caused Anthony to let him slide, which leads Kendrick hypothesize what could have been. This generosity caused a butterfly effect where Kendrick, Anthony, and Ducky “meet inside recording studios where they reaping their benefits”. It is a powerful, true story which beautifully encapsulates the message of the album. Kendrick’s hypothetical storyline where Ducky is too weak to be generous and Anthony kills Ducky out of wickedness leads to all of their demises. A gunshot is played which is followed by the sound of the album being reversed to the first track. It gives the album a cyclical nature, similar to that of “good kid, m.A.A.d city”.

To conclude, DAMN. by Kendrick Lamar is an extremely dense work of art, which justifies it being possibly my most listened to album ever (wow that sounds weird). Many people seem to consider it to be a poppy downgrade from To Pimp A Butterfly but I couldn't disagree more. While I might prefer TPAB musically, I would argue that there is just as much, if not more artistic depth to DAMN.. It is a ghostly, brooding, intense, honest, and artful installation to what is, in my opinion, one of the best discography runs in hip-hop. This is definitely one of the best albums of the year, and possibly the decade.

Favorite Lyrics by /u/King_CornShucker

I was born like this, since One like this immaculate conception

I transform like this, perform like this, was Yeshua’s new weapon

I don’t contemplate, I meditate, then off your fucking head

This that put-the-kids-to-bed, this that I got, I got, I got, I got-

“DNA.”

Now, in a perfect world, I probably won’t be insensitive

Cold as December but never remember what winter did

I wouldn’t blame you for mistakes I made or the bed I laid

Seems like I point a finger just to make a point nowadays

“PRIDE.”

Fear, whatever happens on Earth stays on Earth

And I can’t take these feeling with me so hopefully they disperse

Within fourteen tracks, carried out over wax

Searching for resolutions until somebody get back

“FEAR.”

Life is one funny mothafucka, a true comedian

You gotta love him, you gotta trust him

I might be buggin’, infomercials and no sleep

Introverted by my thoughts, children, listen, it gets deep

“DUCKWORTH.”

Talking Points

What hidden themes/meanings did you catch in DAMN. that could’ve been intentional?

What do you think the encounter with the blind woman in “BLOOD.” represents?

What do you think about the “reverse theory” that Kendrick co-signed?

Do you think Kendrick sacrificed quality to make the album approachable to the mainstream?

Did DAMN. live up to the standards set by To Pimp A Butterfly?

Favourite and least favourite songs, lyrics, and beats on the album?

What direction do you think/hope Kendrick will take with his next album?

Artist: Kendrick LamarAlbum: DAMN.Listen:SpotifyApple MusicTidalGoogle Play MusicBackground by /u/King_CornShuckerAs the dust settled following one of the most important hip-hop releases in recent years (2015’s To Pimp A Butterfly), all eyes were on Kendrick Lamar. This jazz and funk infused masterwork was both socio politically fierce and introspectively vulnerable, typifying Kendrick’s (familiarly) conflicting nature. The album’s strength spilled into the subsequent year’s untitled, unmastered., an EP of compiled demos originating during the recording sessions of TPAB. Together, these works established what Lamar had been working on perfecting since 2011’s Section.80. and 2012’s good kid, m.A.A.d city: his ability to craft a lyrically impressive body of work dense with storytelling and concepts begging for repeat-listens.But as Kendrick said in his late-2016 interview with Rick Rubin, “It will always have some type of DNA in my music. But me as a person and just knowing who I am, I grow, I’m like a chameleon.” And nobody knew what to expect, especially after producer Syk Sense called the beats in consideration “some of the hardest shit I’ve heard.” He also described the sounds saying, “It’s not like the jazzy tape you would think, it’s like...fucking Memphis. It’s LA, it’s Memphis.” In an interview with The New York Times, Kendrick prefaced the topics he was exploring by saying, “We’re in a time where we exclude one major component out of this whole thing called life: God.”But all the guessing was suddenly interrupted by the March release of “The Heart Part 4”, an exciting single concluding with the line, “Y’all got ‘til April the 7th to get y’all shit together”. The day came and Kendrick Lamar’s fourth studio album was available for preorder. It was soon announced to be DAMN., a fourteen-track album featuring Rihanna, Zacari, and U2, as well as a talented line-up of producers such as Mike WiLL Made-It, The Alchemist, and 9th Wonder.Review by /u/King_CornShuckerThe album begins(?) with “BLOOD.”, an eerie introduction where Kendrick tells a story over a mellow instrumental produced by Bēkon and Top Dawg. Bēkon’s bone-chilling vocals kick off the song, offering what seemingly comes to be the album’s thesis,Is it wickedness? Is it weakness? You decide. Are we gonna live or die?These lines carry a listener-hooking sense of mystery that leads into the story. To summarize, Kendrick is taking a walk when he encounters a frustrated blind woman who appears to be looking for something. Soon, he decides to help but is then killed by the woman as a result. This macabre climax is abruptly concluded by a gunshot. While “BLOOD.” is basically a bare-bones introductory skit, I believe it shows Kendrick’s ability to craft artistic brilliance beyond just rapping. A clip of FOX News reporters criticizing the lyrical content of Kendrick’s “Alright” epically transitions into “DNA.”, which is literally the hardest song I’ve ever heard. Kendrick begins by proudly listing both the good and bad in his history and heritage that makes him who he is. The entire first verse is an aggressive yet honest analysis of his personality and beliefs (“And I’m gon’ shine like I’m supposed to, antisocial extrovert”), as well as his current accomplishments (“At 29, I’ve done so well, hit cartwheel in my estate”). An intense, bass-heavy beat crafted by Mike WiLL Made-It carries on for the first verse until it halts into the bridge, featuring a clip of Geraldo Rivera condemning hip-hop’s effects on African-Americans. In response to the FOX News comments sampled here and previously on “BLOOD.” regarding “Alright”, Kendrick said this:How can you take a song that’s about hope and turn it into hatred? The overall message is ‘we’re gonna be alright.’ It’s not the message of ‘I wanna kill people.’This sample paired with Kendrick’s repeating of the words, “I got loyalty, got royalty inside my DNA”, bring on an incredibly aggressive and in-your-face beat switch. Kendrick’s second verse is urgent and even angrier than his first. The passionate delivery of these apocalyptic lyrics (“Tell me when destruction gonna be my fate”, “Look up in the sky, 10 is on the way, sentence on the way, killings on the way”) gives the song the feeling of a grand finale, even though it’s basically the first song. The last line of the song is “Sex, money, murder-our DNA”, saying that these sins are in our blood. It is a very intentional moment, as it helps introduce the album's biblical theme of sin, and the punishments we face because of it. Mike WiLL Made-It reportedly created the second part of the instrumental after Kendrick rapped the second verse a capella. He stated:Just imagine him a cappella rapping the second half of “DNA.” and I had to build a beat around that. I didn’t want the beat to just sound like a regular boom-clap, boom-clap. I wanted that shit to sound just as crazy. I wanted it to sound like he’s battling the beat.Which he clearly accomplished. Not only one of the album’s highlights, “DNA.” is in my opinion one of the best songs of Kendrick’s discography.The next song is “YAH.”, and the first thing we hear is the album’s debut appearance of legendary DJ and rapper Kid Capri. His inclusion gives off a classic mixtape vibe, calling to mind older eras of hip-hop.New shit, new Kung Fu KennyIntroduced earlier on Mike WiLL’s track, “Perfect Pint”, Kung Fu Kenny is a new nickname mentioned numerous times on DAMN. whose motif is seen in videos for the album as well as other promotion and concerts. It is inspired by Don Cheadle’s character from the 2001 film, Rush Hour 2. The most noticeable thing on “YAH.” is the sudden and drastic tone change. In contrast to the previous track’s intensity and unwavering confidence, Kendrick sounds forlorn and paranoid. Kendrick is rapping slowly and melodically over strange and smooth production by Sounwave, DJ Dahi, and Top Dawg.Buzzin’, radars is buzzin’, yah yah, yah yah, yah yah, yah yah, yah yahThis hypnotizing chorus is a bit unclear in meaning, but it seems to be about his awareness. His “radars” are detecting who is untrustworthy, which connects to the paranoid lyrics (“I got so many theories and suspicions”, “My girl told me don’t let these hoes get in my head”). “Yah” may be in reference to Yahweh, the Hebrew name of God used in the bible. In verse two he raps about struggling with temptation even though he believes God is real and curses those who are unfaithful. The repetition in the chorus could be a calling out to God for help or forgiveness.

[smoothshift]

GT350 Roadtrip: 1 week, 9 states, 4400miles. Lengthy post, pics included. via /r/cars

GT350 Roadtrip: 1 week, 9 states, 4400miles. Lengthy post, pics included.

TLDR: It was a lengthy but short roadtrip. You're welcome.  

Ain't got no time for readin and stuff? I got you: http://ift.tt/2vmKRwc  

States visited: OR, WA, ID, MT, WY, CO, UT, AZ, NV  

Notable locations: Glacier National Park, Pike's Peak, Great Sand Dunes National Park, Zion National Park, Shelby Museum/Factory/Store  

I left San Francisco on Saturday 8/12 at 5:30AM. Returned Saturday 8/19 at 11:45PM. Following are the notes I took on the trip and recollections after. I hope you enjoy. I certainly did.  

Northern California: Nothing notable, I live here. Took 80 East to 505 North, later merging into 5 North. Met two guys with built-out BRZs in Suisun Valley; they were headed to a meet. Cars were tastefully modded and I favored the burnt orange and black wing combo car. Didn't talk long, but the burnt orange guy wanted to know if I was "driving the ecoboost?" Nah, this isn't the ecoboost. Those are good cars, though, and I envy the MPG.  

Oregon: Fast-forwarding to the land of "thou shalt not pump your own gas." Really weird but whatever, Oregon has the most beautiful semi-populated back country I've seen. Didn't find any technical driving roads but the long straights and gentle sweepers were nice. Fantastic ranches you guys have, btw, wow. When the sun hits the golden fields as you're blasting by and the horses look up ya think, huh. I can dig this. P.S. your speed limits are terrible, not updated since 1912 or some such.  

Washington: Ah, crossing the border with that feeling of anticipation, the wonder of sights unseen, the joy of... 2 KA bands and 1 laser hit. WTF Washington, nice welcome wagon you got there. But you're not done, no sir or ma'am. Pasco, WA, aka interchange city. So. Many. KA. Bands. And. 2. Laser. Hits. I get it, you need the revenue. But not from me. Motored along merrily on 90NE/E to Spokane, crossing into Idaho.  

Idaho: Coeur d'Alene. Wow. Amazing roads; long sweepers in the mountains, gentle and lengthy elevation changes and fantastic scenery. You win, Idaho.  

Montana: I'm on the way to Glacier National Park. 3 things of note in this state:  

1 - "Keep Right Except to Pass." I've seen posts about this on r/Cars and never really "got it", but now I do. Montananians have this down to a science and it works. Granted the population is sparse but its a model of managing traffic flow and speed. Consider me a full-time convert.  

2 - I pulled in to a rest stop on Highway 2; it was 11:30 at night and the area poorly lit. A family was setting up a giant tent on the grass; it was just them, me and a semi parked in the lot. Blacked out the car windows (sunscreen and blankets) and made myself cozy. 3AM and I'm suddenly awake, its time to visit the facilities and take care of urgent business. As I approach the men's room I hear a noise, it's a loud buzzing and a man's booming voice. Montana rest stops have speakers playing the weather report ("The weather in Big Fork was clear, and the wind was..."). This speaker was blown due to the loud volume setting. Creepy at 3AM, moreso with dim fluorescent lighting. Good news though: Bathroom is clean and I've got my choice of two stalls. I take the luxury stall aka the doublewide aka the handicapped version. Oh. Lock is broken. NP, I switch to the economy stall and run down the checklist. Door locks, check. Floor and seat clean, check. Enough TP to build an assnest on the seat, check. We're locked and loaded and I'm going in, Cap'n. Except for one thing: The lone bit of graffiti on the door. It read: "8/11. Let's %$# or at least piss on me. Tap foot." Imagine its 3AM and you're groggy with so few hours of sleep and that's me, mouth slightly open, brow furrowed with squinty eyes trying to comprehend this lonely missive of love and bodily fluids. First thought: Is it the 11th? No, ok good. Second: I'm the only one in here. Third: I no longer have the urge to do anything but GTFO; the creepy factor went from 3/10 to 10/10. Not that it mattered to the disembodied man's distorted voice; he continued belting out the weather report as I left a contrail of relief denied.  

3 - Glacier National Park. My first must-see destination and it was so worth it. Lovely, narrow roads albeit packed with appliance cars. On the West Glacier Road there's a spot to park and take a shuttle bus up. Not for me but it's a popular thing. Some tourists get bored waiting and attempt to hitchhike; as I rounded a curve I saw a hitchhiker sorta gently shove his (I presume) SO away and say loudly in his Brit accent, "I know what I'm about!" Hey brother. You're ok hitchhiking in a park, but don't do that anywhere else. Unless you like the song Goodbye Horses in which case have at it. Anyway, GNP: Pictures can't convey it well, nor can they convey the batshit crazy old lady driving a minty green Fiat ... Fiat uh, not the Abarth but the lower spec model. Old lady, her Fiat and personal GNP Formula 1. Like everyone else she'd pull over for pics, but when I saw her coming I got out of the way.  

Wyoming: Plains. Plains as far as the eye can fall asleep.. I kid. Beautiful state, really. Pulled over and listened to a thunderstorm slowly roar across the open land. Amazing, spiritual, awe-inspiring. Congrats, Wyomingians. All 3 of you.  

Colorado: Colorado is amazing, and as a California native I'm genetically predisposed to moving there. But don't worry, Coloradorians.. eh, Coloradori, F it, lets just go with Pot Smoking REI Junkies and Rednecks. As I was saying, I won't move there, ever. Not me. Nuh uh. Well. Not unless I get bored, or ... wait. Wait a second. Huh. Zillow says I can buy how many bedrooms, with how big a garage and a backyard that's spacious in a good neighborhood for how much? Hmmmm.  

Pike's Peak. You've heard about it. If you've not gone, go. Don't expect a Hill Climb though, the usual appliance cars and Lifted Lambos (trucks) clog the roads - although I did get lucky in spots, and did a Matt Farah a few times by making a gap on the straights. 14k elevation, no big deal, I've done that before in Ladakh (India, Himalaya foothills). Think again, that 14k kicked my ass. Just taking pictures of the car was wearing me out. While at the summit some lady hiked down (apparently there's a trail) and needed rescue, she simply could not climb up. I believe it.  

Great Sand Dunes National Park. Yep. It's sandy. The approach road (well outside of the park) is minimal to no traffic, you can go 10 mins without seeing a car. I may or may not have done a triple. Or as I call it, 25 MPH in Mexican school zone. Because I'd never do that in the US. Not me.  

Small towns. We all know its common for small towns to be speed traps. Colorado small towns take it to the next level. Its dark, I'm in BFE, and 1-2-3 small towns in a row: K Band, X Band, KA Band, no apparent falses. In one case the local popo followed me about 3 miles out of town. My very first police escort, I'm so proud.  

Montrose, CO. I'm a coffee nerd so this trip has been mostly hell. The hell of McD's coffee or worse, gas station coffee. Swill. So what makes Montrose, CO, special? La Zona Colona Coffee off Highway 550. You're going to pass it when heading to Silverton, so stop. Clean outside and in, tastefully done decor and, crucially, outstanding coffee with what seems to be an extra dose of caffeine. I suspect this because it wasn't long before I was road raging pretty hard, I mean come on. LANE CAMPERS RADKJEKEJREKJFDKJ gargle scream do nothing but wait to pass. Yep. Road raging. Best coffee I've ever had.  

Silverton,CO. Quaint, preserved old-timey Western town. They even have a steam train and stagecoach, actual ones that move along and make old-timey choo choo noises and whatever sounds horses make. Popular place.  

Highway 550 to Durango. Rounded a curve and a blond guy with man bun waved me down. He and his GF were stuck, older Toyota with a dead battery and as it turns out, bad alternator. I had a battery charger but no cables (ugh) so he plugged it to the battery and we waited. I suggested waving down a truck as those guys must have cables. Cars go by, no one stops or acknowledges his waving. Weird; he's young, good looking and dressed in Mountain Chic - I mean, he's not scary looking and its full daylight. Finally a red F150 stops, older guy with cables. He's a little sauced, not drunk but he's had a few. Engine turns over and I follow the Toyota couple a while, and it dies again. This happened 4x til we made it to the guy's house in Durango. On the last pullover the red F150 guy shows up again. "I wanna see how fast this Shelby can go," he says, slightly slurred, "It's ok, I party with the cops in Durango." This was just not gonna happen, Durango's not a little town with deserted roads and I didn't see any signs for open track night. I politely ignored him and we got the Toyota couple home, wished them luck and off I went.  

Utah: I dunno, it's Utah. Mostly impressed with the people vs. the places, although those are nice too.  

Four Corners. Not sure what I expected, maybe something grand to commemorate 4 state borders, maybe some good dining and driving roads. Nope. You get a short dusty road (fine, its the arid desert), a $5 entry fee, signs saying cremated remains cannot be spread here (huh, who, why?), vendors selling Navajo-themed jewelry and stuff and that thing. That thing set in concrete marking the celebration of 4 state borders meeting. I was done before I got there and was walking back to the car when I saw her. No, not the love of my life. Rather a woman wearing an awesome tshirt which just then struck me as hilarious. Pic taken. Nice lady, she was a riot. She liked the GT350 too.  

Zion National Park. 105 degrees. Two European guys driving below the speed limit in a rental Focus. I get it, you're here to see the sights. But uh, pull over. Thanks bye.  

Kanab: Nothing notable here other than I stayed in the Quality Inn's "suite." But there was one cool encounter at the local car wash (I detail my car religiously): Mr. Walker with his 1965 Thunderbird. OMG. Maroon paint, black leather interior, dusty engine. Overall excellent shape (driving condition, not concours) and he's the second owner with all maintenance records from new. Mr. Walker liked the Shelby and had a lot of questions; I had just as many for him. He showed his car and apologized for being unable to wipe down the front and rear chrome due to his age. Not a problem, yours truly wiped it down for him and it was a pleasure doing so. What a car. Tip of the cap to you, sir.  

Nevada AKA Las Vegas: Stopped to visit the Shelby Factory, Museum and Shop. The shop is the first thing you see once inside and lemme tell ya. Need a Shelby leather coat? They got you, Holmes. Socks, tshirts, bottle opener, model car, hat, travel mug, earrings, key chain? No problemo. I made a dad joke (tm, not an actual dad) after buying some shirts: So uh, you guys have everything, literally everything for sale, don't you? Sales lady: (thinking FFS not this again): Yes, we do. Me: Great, I'm in the market for a new fridge. Sales lady: Points to her left and there it is, a I-kid-you-not-Shelby-branded-fridge. Joke's on me; abort abort mission failure RTB.  

Walked outside and there was an Aussie family sorta standing by my car. The dad went on about how much they liked it, and a US friend of his was considering buying one. Told him to tell his friend, yep, buy it.  

... And that's pretty much it. Went to SoCal but there's 2 kinds of SoCal: coastal (nice) and inland desert (less nice). At Barstow I couldn't take it anymore, GTA got crappy desert towns right. Connnected to 5 North and pulled over for gas: $3.89 for premium, the good ole welcome home price. Drove 6 hours north to SF, woke up the GF and flopped right into bed. Best parts about coming home: GF reunion, Game of Thrones and 7 hours detailing the car. Still haven't got all the bug bits off the grille.  

Random stats:

23.1 MPG

Cheapest gas / Premium: $2.48 (Wyoming, Ethanol blend)

Oil consumption: 2 quarts

Breakdowns and flats: 0

Truck Stop Hookers Observed: 2

Drunk Drivers Observed: 1

Accidents seen (after the fact): 3

Road rage battles seen: 1 (SoCal. Of course)

Live deer: Too many (Montana, but especially Colorado)

Dead deer: 12 +